Crescendo
by GodSaveTheKings
Summary: Four years after Kuvira's downfall, Korra's life is at peace. The world has achieved balance,and though her relationship with Asami is beginning to falter, she remains optimistic. However, when a series of bizarre murders start occurring throughout Republic City, she suddenly finds herself facing a more terrifying threat than she could possibly imagine.
1. The Boy Who Always Smiled

**Note: Welcome to "Crescendo". Before your read, we wish to warn you that the story contains violent and possibly disturbing content, so be advised. This opening chapter acts as more of a prologue before things really get going, but we try to update frequently so that more will happen soon. Also, we highly value feedback, so if you have anything you want to say, we encourage you to let us know. It really helps the writing process. Thanks, and enjoy.**

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><p>It was love at first sight.<p>

The immeasurable love the boy felt at that moment easily surmounted every tangible feeling he had before. And yet, his emotions did not overwhelm him, but bubbled softly beneath the surface. As the leaves fell tenderly to the plush soil below, the boy felt an incredibly calming sensation run through him. Even with the blackness of the ground and the chillness of the wind blowing through the air with mild force, and the emptiness around him, he felt blissful, gazing openly, wondrously, in shock and awe, at the magnificent beauty before him.

Yes, he decided. It was truly a brilliant statue.

The boy was only five when the granite statue of the Avatar was constructed, but now he was twelve, and his mind had matured in ways his superiors would never have dreamed of. He could truly admire the piece of artwork for all that it represented, all of its cracks and ridges forming perfectly into a single, astounding vision.

Oh, there were so many things to admire about the Avatar statue. For one, it stood tall and proud in the middle of Avatar Korra Park, a park so lovely and serene that no one ever happened to be walking by when the boy was present. It gave him time to relax and admire the statue in all of its glory. But that was just the atmosphere, and the boy could amuse himself for hours about the various activities taken by others in the area, many of which he had only heard of, and never seen.

But of course, anyone who could not appreciate the full grace of the statue itself, in his eyes, was completely insane. The amount of craftsmanship placed into every nook and cranny of the Avatar's face was awe-inspiring to him. The boy had once taken upon himself to compare the statue to the actual Avatar's appearance, based on a newspaper clipping he had acquired when he was ten. He had concluded, after spending hours upon hours gazing at both objects with squinted eyes and a stuck-out tongue, that even though the statue was based upon Korra when she was eighteen years of age, and the photo he had of her was from when she was twenty-three years of age, the two were almost, nearly, meticulously identical in every way conceivably possible.

This, as well, amused the boy very much.

Then, naturally, there was the legend, which he might have enjoyed more than the statue, if he was honest with himself. What was there not to enjoy about the legend? It was a classic story of friendship, family, comedy, tragedy, triumph. A story of a young girl destined for greatness with impossible expectations, and achieving greatness beyond anyone's wildest imaginations. The boy very much liked that story. He liked it so much, in fact, that he wished he could have taken part in such a globe-trotting, high-thrill adventure. For him, that was a rather impressive feat, because as far back as he could remember, nothing impressed him at all. None of the great Water Tribe legends or Earth Kingdom folklore ever seemed to elicit a response from him when he was younger. They simply seemed boring to an advanced intellect like him, for what did adults know about entertainment anyway? However, this particular tale of the Avatar, of the Equalists, of the Spirit Portals, of the Red Lotus, of the Earth Empire, of companionship, of emotion, of fear, of pain, of love; it all seemed so indescribably perfect to him, that even at the slightest mention he would burst into fits of unparalleled glee.

Thus, it was decided at the ripe age of eleven, that he would make visits to the Avatar statue once per month, in order to fully pay tribute to all that the site meant to both him and the world. Every morning of those special days, he would wake up from his bed, put on his fanciest attire, take the twenty minute stroll from his abode to Avatar Korra Park, sit in front of the statue cross-legged, and stare at the statue for at least a good hour or two, always making sure to smile as brightly as he could at the memories that flooded his mind.

This lasted for two months before the boy realized that it was not good enough, so he increased his visitation to once every two weeks. A few weeks later, when he still felt unsatisfied, he raised his quota to once per week.

At this point, he felt he had properly managed his time to only visiting the statue once every three or four days, which led him in front of the statue early one morning near the end of summer, the soil beginning to fade black and wind brushing through the air carelessly. His routine was no different this day than it was any other. He sat cross-legged in front of the statue, humming a light tune to himself in the empty field. The tremendous stories had already begun flowing through his thoughts like a raging storm, filling him with such happiness that the wind was numb upon his skin.

After one hour and fifteen minutes had passed, the boy stood up, brushed himself off, and bowed to the statue gracefully. He continued to hum his merry tune as we went home on his usual path, counting his several thousand steps he would need to take back to his home.

However, something distracted his along the path. Located exactly three hundred and forty-two steps away from the statue was a park bench, to which he held no particular affinity. Often when passing by this bench, he would spot a small squirrel scurrying about with two oversized nuts in its cheeks, puffing out like inflated balloons. The squirrel was such a common sight that he usually found his eyes wandering to it whenever he passed.

Yet, on this random morning, the squirrel was nowhere to be seen. Instead, someone sat there, occupying the bench, interrupting the flow of the scenery. As the boy walked past, he examined the woman carefully, and in all but a moment, his heart filled up with an incredible sense of discovery. The woman, dressed in blue and fur, brown hands pressed together on her lap, blue eyes gazing inattentively into the distance with a youthful mind lost well in thought, was caught in the eyes of the boy for well over a minute before his mind snapped back to reality.

Why, that was the Avatar sitting on that bench.

Korra, as it turned out, despite arguably being one of the most important people in the world, was never called out in public much. No tabloids caught her eating at lunch, no autograph hungry fans clamored for her attention, and no one aside from her friends and politicians ever gave her much of a thought. She supposed that her lack of fame was probably due to a vast misunderstanding and confusion of her role as "bridge between two worlds", even though that was hardly much of a problem anymore. Who would be a part of her fan club anyway? Given all of the mover stars and dashing models and corporate giants, the celebrity world treated her as a small fry; a situation she was perfectly comfortable with.

So, she was rather surprised when a small boy walked up to her, and smiled brightly.

"You're the Avatar, aren't you?"

Korra turned her head, and looked at her new company. He was a young boy with shaggy, black hair that fell all over his face, big, staring, brown eyes that looked at her markedly, and a massive smile that never seemed to fade. He wore something of a dark grey suit, buttoned down the chest, matching slacks, and spiffy black shoes that were one size too big.

"Avatar Korra?" the boy repeated. Korra shook her head, and gathered her attention.

"Uh, yes?" she responded.

"I'm Masaki," said the boy with satisfaction. "It's really a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh… thank you," Korra said with a small smile. She looked left and right, but no one was around. "What are you doing here all alone, Masaki?"

"I was walking down the path over there, and I saw you over here."

"Mmhmm."

Korra looked carefully at the boy. He simply smiled back.

"Hey Masaki, how old are you?"

"Twelve," Masaki said with a grin. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Korra giggled. "Well, not a lot of twelve year olds are walking in the middle of this park without any adults around. We should really get you back home safe."

"That's not important now," Masaki insisted. "It's not every day I get to meet the Avatar. I must say, you look a lot prettier in person than you do in stone."

"Aw, thanks. That's sweet of you."

"Hey, would you mind if I asked some questions?"

"Uh…" Korra stammered. The boy's smile never let up, not even a smudge. Several different thoughts ran through Korra's mind. The first was that this child was actually starting to creep her out, just a tiny bit. The second was that she needed to get this mildly creepy child back to his parents. Even though the park was named after her, she would be lying to herself to suggest that it was wholesome all of the time. There could be a million thugs or kidnappers waiting around every corner, and the boy looked rather small and defenseless. The third thought that ran through Korra's mind was that she had an admirer. Korra never had an admirer before, and even though Masaki was someone creepy with his never-ending smile, he was also undeniably cute, with his small stature and big shoes and shaggy hair. And so, Korra figured, since she was going to stick with the kid anyway, she might as well amuse him.

"Alright, alright," Korra gave-in happily. "What do you want to know?"

Masaki froze, his smile falling from his face. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, but the occasion overwhelmed him, and he had no idea what to say.

"Um… uh…" he twitched. "Do you… well… do you like being the Avatar?"

Korra smiled gently. "Yeah. I really like being the Avatar. It's probably the best thing about me."

"What… what's your favorite element?"

"My favorite?" Korra thought about the question hard. "That's hard to describe. They all have their strengths and weaknesses. Water is my native element, and it's cool and gentle, and can heal as well as attack. Earth is stable and sturdy, and fire has a lot of beauty behind it. But I might have to say air, because of the balance it brings. It requires a lot of focus to maintain, and after all of the trouble I went through to achieve it, and the times the… tranquility and peace it brought me helped me through some tough times…"

Masaki stared at her, showing no change of expression. Korra mentally slapped herself. She was talking to a kid. More so, she was talking to a young boy. Did young boys care about tranquility and peace? Did this boy actually want to hear a life lesson? She should have known better. After all, she was a kid once, wasn't she?

"Nah, who am I kidding?" Korra said with a shrug. "Fire's definitely the coolest. It's pretty freaking awesome to shoot flames out of your hands."

Masaki looked at her quizzically, but soon resumed gazing at her in wonder, as if staring into a magnificent star.

"Is there anything else you wanted to know?" Korra asked, actually feeling a small burst of joy making someone else so happy by doing such a simple task.

"So…" Masaki asked. "Where do you live?"

"Air Temple Island, although I've actually started looking for a place in the city. It's hard when you're traveling around so much."

"Do you have a favorite restaurant?"

"Ochi's Seafood, right near the west side of the park."

"What's your favorite food."

"Sea crab soup."

"What's your favorite nation?"

"I don't have one."

"What's your favorite sport?"

"Pro-bending. I used to play it."

"Why did you stop?"

"Avatar duties. I'm still a fan though."

"What's your favorite thing to do?"

"Bend."

"What's your least favorite thing to do?"

"Doing nothing, actually."

"Are you scared of anything at all?"

"Everyone's scared of something. I'm afraid of… uh, bugs. Yeah, bugs and spiders and crawly things. I think."

"Are you lying?"

"Wha—no, never! Why would I do that?"

"Do you like watching movers?"

"No."

"Do you like going shopping?"

"No."

"Do you like sitting around in random park benches?"

"No. This is a rare thing for me, actually."

"Why so? Don't you like the quiet?"

"Not usually. It's one thing to have quiet while meditating, but I think I like being a part of more active things."

"Doesn't it get lonely being the Avatar though? Having all of that power, all of that wisdom, and no one who can understand it all?"

"Well… yes, a little. Being the Avatar is, well, a heavy burden. There is a lot of responsibility on my shoulders, and if I tried doing everything on my own, I'd probably fail—actually, I know I'd fail. Luckily, I have a lot of friends who are able to support me."

Masaki seemed to find this statement rather odd, and pressed forward with a confused look plastered on his face. "The Avatar has friends?"

Korra nodded. "I have plenty of friends?"

"You mean… actual friends? Close friends?"

"Very close."

"Even though none of them are like you? Even though you're the Avatar, and they're just… people? I don't get it. Why does the Avatar need friends?"

"Everyone needs friends at some point, Masaki," Korra said softly, knowingly. Years of Avatar wisdom told her she needed to say something. Somehow, she felt that this was important to emphasize for the boy with the grey suit and big shoes and shaggy hair. "Having all of this power wouldn't mean anything if I didn't have anyone to share them with. I'm not better than anyone, really. They all have parts of them that make them special, like I do, or you do. It's combining those attributes with others that make the difference. I hope that makes sense to you."

"Ohhhhh," Masaki said, rocking on the balls of his feet. He smiled cunningly. "So… do you have a boyfriend?"

Korra nearly jumped out of the bench upon hearing the question, looking as far away from the boy as possible. "Uh… that's complicated."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"That's also complicated."

"Does he/she not appreciate you enough?"

"Can we not talk about my dating habits?"

"Is your sex life okay?"

"How—what!? How do you even know about… don't ask people about that!"

"Oh, are you in one of those 'swinger relationships' I heard about—"

"Okay, enough questions!" Korra said suddenly, rising from the bench. Her cheeks with hot and she pressed her hand against her forehead in embarrassment. "Now that we've got that stuff out in the open, let's go find your way home."

Masaki, as always, simply smiled at her.

"Oh, Korra. I've always known my way back. I just wanted the chance to finally meet you."

Before Korra could inquire further about what he was talking about, Masaki lowered himself into a bow, and then happily walked away.

"It was a pleasure talking to you, Miss Avatar!" he called to her, waving over his shoulder. "Good luck having friends!"

Korra watched the boy leave in utter confusion. She had not meant to lose her cool like that, especially in front of such a small boy. Those last few questions were a bit too personal in her opinion. Then again, given what Masaki was talking about, she doubted he had that much of an innocent mind to taint.

She hoped that she helped him, somehow. He must have had trouble making friends. If she was his role model of some kind, then maybe he would take her words to heart.

Korra looked out at Republic City, the city she had grown to love. So much had changed since she had first arrived. She remembered her eagerness, her brashness, her egotism, and her curiosity upon entering the streets for the first time. That was nearly eight years ago, and still she remained in the urban jungle. Through all of the hardships she had to deal with throughout her life, through all of the crazed cult leaders and war hungry soldiers, she had managed to survive. She had built a new life for herself within this world, one of trust, love, and peace.

What a shame it was that, in just a few months, all of it would come crashing to the ground.


	2. Twin Minds or (The Complex Relationship)

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><p>It was close to evening when Korra approached the Future Industries warehouse. The sun was beginning to set over the distant mountains, past the bright green beam puncturing its way into the heavens. The wind had significantly picked up since that morning, blowing away stray, multi-colored leaves and loose scraps of paper someone had emptied near the dock.<p>

Korra never visited the warehouse all that often, for there was nothing there for her to see. She knew nothing of industry or economics, crafting or constructing, smelting or welding. Being the Avatar required a keen respect towards nature, and the massive industrialization efforts taken by the modern world but a mild hamper on that aspect of her life. In fact, Korra rarely drove anywhere in her sleek black Satomobile that she acquired three years prior. The only reason she was driving it on this night was due to her special summoning by a highly-valued acquaintance.

Korra, being wise, knew not to miss out whenever Asami Sato called for her. It had been twenty-four days since she and the genius chief executive officer of Future Industries had seen each other, and exactly three days since Asami had returned to Republic City. When Korra initially heard of her friend's return, it was past midnight, and she was so horribly tired that it was impossible to sleep.

Jinora, who was also restless and wandering, informed Korra that Asami's airship had docked, resulting in the normally at-peace Avatar to spring around the room, throw on clothes, and nearly swim her way to the Sato Estate before Jinora forced her back into bed, using only the power of teenage rebellion to help her. The poor Avatar had to wait another day before making any sort of contact due to an important meeting with President Reiko, and even then, she was limited to a short, two-minute phone call, which was kept brief and restrictive thanks to the ever-looming presence of Tenzin waiting to use the phone afterwards. What that conversation consisted of was even worse for Korra, because Asami openly refused to see her until the next night, claiming to be working hard on an important project and unable to dedicate any free time until those specified hours.

Back in reality, Korra swerved to the right. Her reminiscing had caused her to lose sight of the road, and nearly plunge headfirst into the nearby harbor. Slamming hard on the brakes, Korra remembered why it was that she hated cars: she could barely drive. It wasn't that she was necessarily bad at driving, but she was trained for riding Naga, and having a mechanical beast that needs full physical input required too much concentration for her liking.

The sun glistened off of the dark blue water, casting its endless streams of light into the great beyond. The air was still, silent, as if all noise had been sucked out of the atmosphere in order to grant the scenery perfect harmony. Korra looked on at the factory building; it was big and brash, massive steel doors blocking its entrance, smoke towers funneling up into the clouds and a distinctive clanging and crashing that sounded foreign to Korra's ears. She took a deep breath of fresh air, put on a smile, and opened the door.

"Watch out!"

Korra dove to the ground as something, or someone, flew past her in a blur. It took her a moment to recover, and in that moment she spotted the forms of two mad engineers huddling together, strapped to some large, winged contraption that she found both amusing and terrifying. The sputtering machine slammed into the ground with a crash as Korra stood up, wincing as various pieces of metal flied in any and all directions.

"Darn it! I knew the extra turbine would displace the center of gravity. Whose bright idea was it to put that thing on it anyway?"

"Yours, darling."

"Well, why didn't you tell me that it was a horrible idea?"

Iknik Blackstone Varrick and Zhu Li Moon rose from the wreckage, mostly unscathed. The co-owners of Varrick Global Industries looked down upon the pummeled mass of metal with shame, showing almost no sign of shock from nearly being killed upon impact. Zhu Li only glanced over Varrick, quickly searching her lover for any signs of serious injury. Korra was unsure whether to feel pleased or sick to her stomach. Seeing Varrick at any time made Korra feel uneasy. Even after all of the years she had known him, his extravagant ways and lurking deceit about the slightest things made her highly uncomfortable. Zhu Li, she could tolerate, as the woman barely said anything except to keep her husband in line, an act that no one could complain about. Still, it did not make Korra feel any better, as she was supposed to be having a special meeting with Asami, and anytime Varrick was around, he would interject whenever it was worst to do so.

"What the heck was that?" Korra felt the need to ask.

"That was supposed to be our gateway to millions," Varrick responded arrogantly. The room they were in was full of hanging plane parts and chains and various walkways, leading to an upstairs office. However, the high chamber was filling up with a light smoke from the broken machine.

Korra looked quizzically at the hunk of scrap behind the inventors. "That flying death-machine is supposed to be your next big thing? You do know Airbenders already have wingsuits… and less dangerous ones than that."

"No, no, no—not the wingsuit," Varrick growled, furious that the weaker mind could not comprehend his brilliance. "This little beauty is going to revolutionize transportation as we know it."

"It's the engine that's important," Zhu Li stated. "We're testing new thrusting technology in a smaller size before ramping up production on a larger scale. If our theory is correct, we can make an engine capable of moving dozens of people at nearly five times faster than an average airship."

"Wow, that's quite an undertaking," said Korra. "Are you sure that's even possible?"

"We're testing the efficiency of the engine right now. But, we've run into some small problems—"

"The engine's fine!" Varrick insisted. "My designs are perfect. It's the proportions that are all off. It's impossible to keep the supporting chassis stable under such intense pressure from the engine. We need sturdier framework, which is something 'Miss Sato' hasn't provided us with."

Korra's heart skipped a beat, and she regained her focus on why she was there to begin with. "Speaking of Asami, she told me that I was supposed to meet her here. Is she around somewhere?"

"Asami's up in the office," Zhu Li explained. "She really only comes down to due quick maintenance, or—"

"What the heck was that!?" came an upsetting yell from above. Zhu Li sighed, and adjusted her glasses.

"—or when she needs to scream at us."

Korra spun around to face the noise from above. From the office above, a woman burst out and hung thrust herself against the railing. Her raven hair, light and fluffy, cascaded down her shoulders in a tangled, unkempt wad. Her pale features were caked with streaks of oil and ash, her muddy, maroon, ragged work uniform covered with the same. Her blood red lips were dragged up her face in an ugly scowl, and the translucent green pools of her eyes struck down with such confusion and agitation and guilt and loss that even when studied under the most incandescent and accepting of conditions, her fury would be unmistakable.

"Varrick," she said, her hands gripping the steel bar as if it was her ball and chain and she was a rabid animal waiting to lash out. "Did you just break our only prototype... again?"

Korra gulped nervously, Zhu Li shook her head in shame, and Varrick stomped his foot.

"Hey, it's not our fault you gave us a faulty wingsuit!" he retorted, accepting none of the blame.

Asami's brow furrowed. "I told you not to run any more tests on the thing until after the deal was over. It took me a month in order to perfect that wingsuit, and you just had to go and tamper with everything, like always."

"It wouldn't need tampering if your construction work wasn't so shoddy," Varrick stepped forward, shaking his fist. "If I need to fix your screwed-up framework, then I'm going to fix your screwed-up framework." He paused, looked away, and muttered under his breath, "Besides, it needed an extra kick for style."

Asami tightened her grip to such a degree that the metal nearly bent under her fingers. Her ability to speak coherently disserted her. "Why you… I can't believe… stupid little, incompetent piece of sh—"

Korra hurriedly shoved her way in front of Varrick, holding up her arms in peace. She loved her girlfriend; she truly did. The only consistent problem she had about Asami Sato was her over-commitment to her work, and on occasion, that included her rage whenever something went terribly, horribly wrong.

"Hey, can you calm down with the language?" Korra asked with an innocent, child-like smile. "I'm too young to be hearing things like this."

Asami, however, did not smile. "Korra, you arrived at a really bad time."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure you meant to say something a little more friendly than that," Korra said arrogantly, having expected a more lighthearted response from the woman she dedicated her life to. "Also, you invited me here, remember?"

Asami took a deep breath, releasing her grasp on the bar and soothing her temples. "Sorry. I… I didn't mean it to come out like that." She moved across the walkway at a brisk pace, wiping the sweat and gook from her face. Of all the times she had failed to make herself presentable, it was now that Korra happened to barge in. Asami continued her steady breathing as she descended a flight of stairs, hoping that she did not look like as much of a disaster as she thought. Even though, that concept was ridiculous anyway; she doubted Korra cared about what she looked like, or at least, that was what she hoped.

The moment Asami's feet touched the floor, her motions became automatic, as she found herself practically running to the girl from the Water Tribe and pulling her into a tight hug. The gentle flow of Korra's breath on her neck slowed her heartrate, and she squeezed the Avatar's waist a bit tighter.

"It's really good to see you again," Asami said softly into her companion's ear. "I was planning on making things, you know, more romantic, but time got away from me. Things were running behind schedule, and technical problems kept popping up, and—"

"Don't worry about it," said the shorter woman, delivering a secret peck to the lobe of Asami's ear. "It's good to see you too."

If she could have remained in that embrace for eternity, Korra felt like she would have been satisfied with her life. Unfortunately, the two of them were not alone, and as much as Korra wanted to be with Asami at that moment, she had to keep her emotions in check. She made the hug last as long as she could manage, but after twenty seconds of sheer bliss, she painfully, remorsefully, mournfully released her hold on her girlfriend, feeling their shared warmth fade.

"So, this is what you wanted to show me?" asked the blue-eyed woman, crossing her arms over her chest. "I have to say, I didn't think you'd be so hyped up over air travel."

"What are you—oh no, this isn't why you're here," Asami corrected her. "Future Industries and Varrick Global Industries have entered a joint business venture to recapitalize on the transportation industry. After last year's disaster with magnetic lighting units, we need a boost in sales."

Korra nodded understandingly. If there was one thing that Asami care for more than her friends, it was her company. She remembered comforting Asami for an entire week after those faulty products shipped and nearly tanked the entire company. It was a massive hassle for both of them: Asami, because she had to deal with the lingering guilt of laying off nearly one hundred honest men, and Korra, because she had to make sure her girlfriend ate and slept and didn't work herself to death.

"If you wanted a boost in sales, you wouldn't build so poorly," Varrick said snidely. Asami opened her mouth to scream at him, but she was cut off.

"Darling, perhaps we shouldn't get emotional right now," Zhu Li calmly suggested. As always, her face was plain and expressionless. "We can rebuild it tomorrow. There's still plenty of time to get things worked out. Why don't we all take a break for now and regroup with clearer heads?"

"Yes, let's do that!" Korra agreed, tugging on Asami's arm. "Let's do something that doesn't involve anyone getting maimed."

Asami never stopped glaring at Varrick. "That's fine with me. Come up to my office. There's a passion project of mine that I wanted you to see."

By the time Korra was able to get Asami in motion, the moon had risen in the tranquil, black sky. It's soft luminescence cast through a large skylight above, painting the chamber a mellow blue. Korra followed the taller woman up several steps, around a bend, across a catwalk, and into the hanging office.

Unlike the rest of the workshop, the small office was relatively well lit. There was nothing much to it, but Asami liked it that way. She had barely any possessions that she needed with her on the off-chance that she would eventually need to work here. The actual manager of the building usually stayed downstairs to watch over his subordinates, leaving this one private room as her sole safe haven. Unlike the metal she often found below, it was gentle in the office, accepting even. Serenity, whenever it came over her, struck like lightning in the rain.

As it was now, the only material objects in the room were a solitary desk, three framed photographs of friends and family, and a silver, cylindrical machine only the size of Korra's hand. Asami walked over to the desk, smiling at the peace and quiet. Korra thought for a moment that she was about to tackle her, and that the passion project was really just an excuse made so they could make out against a rusted, dimly-lit metal wall. Instead, Asami picked up the small machine and gently tossed it the Avatar's way.

"Take a look at that," she instructed. Korra looked all over the tube, but saw nothing of particular interest, at least none that she understood. Then again, she was not a mechanic, and any time she would attempt to state something semi-factual about technology, she would always be kindly corrected.

"You know I have no idea what this is," Korra said knowingly. "Is this going to blow me up or something? Are you trying to take revenge for that time in Ba Sing Se last year? Because I already told you, I didn't know that the sweater would fall apart in the rain like that."

"No. I'm getting payback for that some other time," Asami teased, beckoning the shorter girl over to the desk. Korra handed the device over, and Asami rested it on the table. As the two women hunched over the wooden surface, the engineer flicked a small tab on the side of the cylinder.

And then, something brilliant happened. Korra watched in astonishment as the top of the machine flipped open, and into the open air burst dozens of delicate, beautiful, intricate, precious, bronze spheres of warmth and light. The particles swirled above her head in a swelling ritual of beauty, revolving around one another like a million dancing fireflies. The balls of light filled the room in their soft orange glow, and drawn in by their exquisiteness, Korra reached out to one, watching it float away and up to the ceiling before she could grasp it.

"I call them, 'Phosphorescent Particles'," said Asami, her gentle voice reaching Korra through the wonderment. "They're essentially atoms of lights that have been irradiated and enlarged thousands of times their size. Try to think of them a bit like tiny suns. It's only a prototype, and I can't get them to stabilize for more than a few hours, but I have to admit: it's really cool to look at."

Korra stared open-mouthed at the tiny suns before her. She didn't know why, but standing there, her best friend at her side, all alone with nothing else except the wondrous light caused by dozens of blazing spheres, she felt at ease, as if there was not a single negative thought in the world.

"This… this is amazing," was all that she could say. Asami blushed, and brushed the black hair out of her face.

"It's really not that big of a deal," she said shyly. "I mean, it's not even a major Future Industries production. I just kind of threw it together."

"What are you talking about?" Korra asked, turning to Asami as if she was a goddess pretending to be a mouse. "This is incredible. You're incredible. I don't even know what to say, or how this works, but you are just… perfect. You are perfect."

Asami stood in silence. She felt a tingling sensation run up her spine and through her heart. She opened her mouth to return the compliment. How could she not? The Avatar, the most powerful being in the world, just called her perfect. Yet, as she gazed over at her lover, the woman with bright blue eyes had already turned back to the lights, watching them in a rare calmness. Blissfully, Asami turned towards the lights as well. Perhaps it was better to say nothing at all.

The two stood next to each other for what seemed like an eternity, no one wanting to disrupt the glorious display. However, as a curious twinge came to Korra's mind, she forced her eyes away from the lights.

"So, what are you planning to do with this anyway?" she asked inquisitively. "Are you going to mass-produce them? Sell them as lighting fixtures? An entertainment source?"

Suddenly, the joy from Asami's face vanished, replaced with an expression that carried shock and painful embarrassment. The CEO of Future Industries let out a nervous laugh, and looked awkwardly at the desk.

"Oh… about that," she said slowly. "You see, the thing is… earlier, when I, uh, said that this was a… well, 'passion project'… I sort of meant that the passion was… supposed to be… you."

Asami looked back at Korra, smiling cautiously.

"Happy birthday."

Happy birthday. Those two selective words meant more to Korra than anyone would have realized. Fourteen days ago, Korra turned twenty-five years old. The knowledge of her age hit her like a ton of bricks. That day marked her being alive for a quarter of a century, and it both thrilled and frightened her. She had done so much in her brief existence, so much good to the world, and yet, even with all of the good she had done, all of the people she helped save, she couldn't help but feel that time was slipping away. She was no longer a brash teenager keen on seeing the world. She was an adult, an adult who had been through more conflict in a few years than most people did in their lives. Her birthday represented a celebration of all that she had done, but also a reminder of all that she had lost along that way. All Korra wanted on her birthday was to forget about everything, have fun, relax, enjoy what precious things she had.

And of course, the most precious thing she had was several hundred miles away, so caught up in her work that she barely got to call and give her wishes before the clock struck midnight.

Korra felt something moist in her eye. She quickly brushed it away, hoping that it would go unnoticed. It wasn't.

"I… I thought I told you not to get me anything," Korra stated, trying her best and filing to sound upset.

"Korra, I've known you for eight years," Asami said with a smirk. "When you say that you don't want something, it means that you want it more than anything else."

Korra smiled knowingly. She placed her hand on top of Asami's, squeezing it gently in her palm. Even when covered in grime and sweat, it fit perfectly in her grasp. "Is that true? In that case, I hate you. I really, really hate you."

"Wow, you were quick to jump in on that one," Asami teased. "Now I have to say something cheesy to top that."

"I don't think that's possible. I'm the Avatar. Everything I do is perfect."

"Except knowing how to shop in Ba Sing Se."

"Ugh, you're the worst!" Korra sighed, wrapping her arms around the fair-skinned girl. She placed a delicate series of kisses on the nape of her neck, and tightly gripped the rough fabric of her clothing. "Seriously though, thanks for the gift. It… it really means a lot to me."

"No problem. I'm sure you'd do the exact same thing."

Korra moaned in agreement. "You know, now that you're finally back in the city, and maybe if you aren't going to be doing too much work, we could get around to announcing… us."

A groan escaped Asami's lips. It seemed like every time they talked, Korra brought up the same uncomfortable topic. "I don't think now's a good time. My work is pretty hectic."

"Your work has been hectic for four years," Korra reminded her. "This is starting to get ridiculous. I want to actually be with you in public without having to awkwardly refrain from touching you. I'm actually beginning to think that you're ashamed of me."

"Don't be ridiculous. I could never be ashamed of you. It's just that… with all of the publicity and negative press and focus on it, it's better to keep it on the backburner for now, just until I get out of this financial crisis."

Korra frowned. "Okay, I guess. I just hope that you'll keep to your promise. We can't keep this hidden from the public forever."

Asami sighed lovingly, and pressed her forehead against Korra's, her green eyes staring deep into the Avatar's blue ones. Instantly, a sly smile retuned to Korra's somber face, and Asami looked at her seductively. "Look, let's not think about that tonight. Instead, let's think about you and me, late at night, downtown, bright lights, drinks, and the comfy backseat of my car."

"Mmm," Korra agreed, feeling the tension spike in the room. "I like the way you think, Miss Sato."

Their senses were hazy as the drew themselves inwards, and invisible force pushing their lips closer, their hands tighter on each other's body, their spirits and hearts as one.

And then, in the span of a second, the force disappeared as the door to the office burst open, and Varrick burst into the room with his arm thrust in the air as if ready to charge into war. The women quickly shoved themselves apart before the inventor had a chance to realize what was happening. Their faces were hot and red, burning like the dozens of micro suns illuminating the room.

"Sato, work's done for today," said Varrick, Zhu Li standing behind him with her head in her hands. "You and I are headed out for wild Republic City salmon to work out our plans for the next few days, and maybe if we're lucky, you can apologize for messing up the prototype."

Zhu Li cleared her throat.

"Or, maybe I can apologize or whatever," he added. "It doesn't matter! We're feasting now. Get your keister in gear and let's head out."

Asami wanted to say a great many things at that moment, but found it most wise to take a deep breath, collect her thoughts, and sigh accordingly.

"I guess that's what we're going to do then," she said with the slightest bit of contempt. She looked at Korra apologetically, but she was already receiving an understanding nod.

"Want to meet for breakfast tomorrow?" Korra suggested.

"Sure. I can stop by at around eight." With the meeting in place, Asami sorrowfully followed a clueless Varrick out of the office, and a deeply mortified Zhu Li closed the door behind them.

Just like that, Korra was alone with her thoughts again. Per usual, her meeting Asami was filled with electric highs and crushing disappointments. On the bright side, she got to actually see her, something that was become more and more of a rarity each passing month, and on top of that, she got a pretty spectacular birthday present. On the flip side, she was cut off by uninvited guests, and Asami continued to dodge that question. Korra could hardly blame her though. Ever since they began dating, the exact question of who they would tell about their relationship was a major issue, as they both realized that announcing the head of Future Industries was currently dating the Avatar would shift the public's view of them in any number of ways, all of them most likely leading to a basic invasion of privacy for the power couple. There were only a few people on the planet that they trusted with their relationship, and out of those twenty or so individuals, Varrick was not one any of them felt capable of entrusting secrets to.

Suddenly, the door opened back up, and Zhu Li's head popped into view.

"My husband wasn't interrupting anything, was he?" she asked, concerned.

"Well, actually—"

"Darn it," cursed the former assistant. "I'm going to have a long talk with him about barging in on people. Sorry about everything he does, and about dinner too. I hope you and Asami have a lovely time tomorrow."

With that, Zhu Li was gone, leaving Korra alone once again in the room with dozens of dancing sons. She couldn't help but smile at the loyal wife's kind remarks.

Varrick was not trustworthy in the slightest. Zhu Li, on the other hand, was very trustworthy.


	3. Noise

**Note: This is the chapter where things finally start happening. We'd like to give a brief thank you to everyone's who has been attached to this project. If you have been following to this point, we hope that you tell us how you like the story so far, or if there is anything you'd like to see in the future. Everything we hear goes into making the story that much better, so please, let your voice be heard.**

* * *

><p>The banker stood behind his desk in fear, sweat dripping from his furrowed brow. How could it have happened like this? It was going to be a wonderful day, for he had just learned of his wife's pregnancy that morning. He may have been plump and nearing fifty, but he never had a child before. It was an absolute miracle that his wife chose him ever everyone else.<p>

Unfortunately, the beautiful life he sought to have was no at risk, as a knife was pressed against his thick neck.

"Can you just stop blubbering already?" asked the gang member with the crooked hat. "When I tell you to get the money, I expect you to give me the damn money."

"Yes, of course," replied the banker nervously. What were the odds that the bank would be robbed today? What made this day so special? What suddenly inspired three men of the Triple Threat Triads to burst into upper class territory and hold up an empty bank in the middle of the afternoon?

The banker, feeling the cool steel against his jugular, ultimately decided that the reasoning wasn't all that important if he died then and there. The vault was only several yards behind him, an iron gateway to over one million yuans. The banker's eyes dashed between the three men. The one holding a knife to his throat had a slack jaw, squinted eyes, and a dirty face. Another man with wavy hair and a thick, blue coat was propped up against a wall, meddling with a ball of water hovering just above his palm. A third, with a scraggily beard and sunken eyes, was keeping an eye on the doorway.

"You'll let me go once you get the money, won't you?" the banker asked, his voice quivering.

"I'll think about it," responded the Triad member. "Now hurry up. We're wasting daylight."

"No sign of trouble yet," said the man by the door. "It doesn't look like anyone called the cops."

"Good, let's keep it like that. Now, get the money, you old geezer."

"R-right away." The banker shuffled backwards, afraid that at any moment, they could change their minds and cut his throat like paper. His shaking hands grabbed the vault, and began rotating in a very specific pattern. His gaze shifted to the left, where two security guards had been knocked unconscious by a surprise attack. He wished he could have been like them: asleep. If only he could be away from the troubles of the world. If only he could go back home and see his wife again.

Then suddenly, from outside, in the heat of the afternoon, came the slamming of car doors, and the heavy stomping of feet in motion.

"Uh, Lee… we've got a problem," said the man by the door with wide eyes. Before Lee, the man with the cap, could ask what was going on, there came a screeching sound of a megaphone, and a collected voice vibrate through the air.

"This is the police. We have you surrounded. Release the hostages and surrender, and no harm will come to you."

Outside of the bank were four cops and two vehicles. While three of the policemen followed procedure, scanning for signs of duress, one particularly young cop—with a round jaw, short greasy hair, and large hazel eyes—huddled behind the car for protection, earning the ire of the young man standing next to him.

"Chen, what are you doing?" asked Police Detective Mako to his compatriot.

"What? I'm taking cover in case of an emergency," said the young cop, trying to put on a smile.

"Chen, nothing is happening yet," Mako scolded. "Cops can't show their fear to criminals. How are you supposed to earn respect like that?"

"When you put it that way, you make it sound like I'm a coward."

Chen, of course, knew he was a coward, but that didn't change the fact that he did not want to be called one. Chen was an honest, well-nurtured man eighteen years of age. Ever since he was young, he aspired to be part of the Republic City Police. Unfortunately for him, he never really had the necessary athletic capabilities required. He could metalbend, but wasn't proficient at it. He was somewhat knowledgeable, but wasn't anything special. He was well-motivated, but it was often misplaced towards food or pro-bending. He was admitted into the force due to his tenacity, but was given one condition; he had to be placed under the tutelage of one of the police's finest.

That, naturally, brought him to Mako, one of Chief Beifong's most trusted officers. When Mako was first instructed that he would receive a protégé last winter, he was very excited about it. He told all of his friends that he was going to serve as an inspiration and supervisor to a fresh, young mind. In fact, he never stopped talking about it, and in the two weeks leading up to his meeting of the student, he was actually happy. He was so happy that Korra once told him that he had completely lost his mind when he wouldn't stop smiling for an entire evening. The idea that Mako would help better someone's life—someone that had to be, at least, more tolerable than Wu—was very fulfilling.

Then, Mako met Chen, and basically everything went downhill from there. It wasn't that Mako hated his partner; far from it. It had simply been nearly eight months, and Chen's cluelessness and lack of progress was starting to become irritable.

As they were standing behind police cars on this cool summer day, Mako once again finding himself teaching in a place he shouldn't have been. It was not his intention to let Chen get involved with serious threats until the latter was much better prepared, but since they were one of the only squads in the area, they had to take the call.

"Chen, do you know hostage protocol?" Mako asked expectantly.

"Um…" Chen struggled to remember. "It's: secure every possible escape route. Isn't it?"

"Establish a line of communication," Mako begrudgingly corrected him. "We need to get talks going in order to make sure everyone remains calm and unharmed. Otherwise, the situation could get violent."

In a flash, Mako's face was stricken with panic, and he ducked behind the shelter of the car was a boulder sailed over his head and crashed into the concrete behind him.

"Or, we could just get right to exciting part."

One of the members of the Triad had burst through the door, and growled angrily. "I'm not going back to prison! I've got to get out of here!"

Without hesitating even a moment, the robber stomped the ground, sending more chunks of rocks flying in the directions of the police. The other cops—Officer Xiao and Officer Pomi—dove to the ground. Mako, however, adrenaline pumping through his blood, slid over the hood of his car, and blasted fire at the criminal. The earthbender dodged, but Mako managed to grab onto him, flipping him on his back.

Chen peered out behind cover, and seeing Mako victorious, he cheered. "Yeah! Take that criminal down!"

"Stay down, Chen," Mako ordered. "It's too—ugh!"

Mako was caught off-guard by a water blast to the stomach, causing him to double over. The other two crooks burst out of the bank, leaving the worried banker on his knees and shaking. The waterbender turned left, sprinting past the other officers, who began giving chase. However, the man with the crooked cap kept straight, leading him right back to the hunched-over Mako.

Yet, it was Chen who attacked first. He leapt out of cover, screaming like a warrior, recalling his training with his supervisor in order to vanquish his foe. Unfortunately, his sneak attack was unsuccessful; the crook simply sidestepped and tripped him the moment he got close.

"Stupid kid," the crook muttered under his breath, preparing to run. But then, before he could make his move, Mako tackled him from behind, pinning his arms against his back.

"Guys, I got mine!" he called to his fellow officers. As much as the Triad member struggled to free himself, he could not escape. Mako peered to his left. Off in the distance, he could make out faint shadows waving at him; the other man had been caught, brought down by the combined efforts of the officers' earthbending.

"You're under arrest," Mako said taking a deep breath to sooth his wounded stomach. "Chen, grab me the cuffs."

As the protégé hobbled his way back to the car, the plump banker emerged, waving a handkerchief in the air.

"Oh thank you, thank you!' cried the banker. "You saved my life!"

"It's no problem, sir," Mako assured him with a small smile. Chen returned, panting as he handed over the cuffs. Mako gave him a glare as he took the metal objects, signifying that something was upsetting him. More than likely, that would be Chen.

"How can I ever repay you? There must be some way I can show my gratitude."

"Staying safe would be pretty nice," Mako informed him. He secured the crook, who was sneering back at him. The robber's eyes were full of hate, and much to Mako's surprise, some fear as well. Chen escorted the criminal back to the car. The other two Triad members were being taken care of by Officers Xiao and Pomi.

"Maybe I can treat you to lunch," suggested the banker, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He spoke with such innocence that Mako almost felt bad for having to turn him down.

"Don't worry about it," he said, walking back to his vehicle. "Go back home to your family. Enjoy the evening."

"Oh I will, Mr. Policeman! I most definitely will!"

Mako entered the car with a jittering Chen and an upset gangster. With the crook properly secured, Mako began the drive back to police headquarters.

"That was so cool!" Chen said eagerly. "You were like a superhero out there."

"That's not important," Mako stated emotionlessly. "What's important is that a man's life was saved today."

"Obviously, that's important as well. But come on, Mako. You know you looked pretty slick out there. You can brag about it to me. I don't mind."

"No one's bragging about anything. How about instead, we talk about your performance?"

"I'd rather we didn't."

"You can't dodge this. Now, what's the first thing you did wrong?"

Chen groaned. This was something he had grown accustomed to: Mako complaining. It seemed like all he ever did was get yelled at by the senior officer. All he really wanted was a simple compliment, a thank-you, a solitary "good job". Given all that he had seen, Chen seriously began to doubt how Mako sustained a stable relationship with anybody.

"Was it hiding behind a car?"

"It was not listening to my orders," Mako reprimanded him. "Following the orders of your senior officer is one of the most important parts of the job. I told you to stay low, and you put yourself in harm's way regardless."

"Well, it's hard to think straight when you give such confusing instructions," Chen argued. "First you told me to not to hide behind the car, and then you scold me for not hiding behind the car! Make up your mind already."

"It's situational," Mako explained. "I'm just trying to make sure you don't get hurt. I'm your supervisor. I care about you, bro."

"Hey, can I interject for a moment?" asked the criminal with the crooked cap. "It looks like you both need to learn to listen to each other more. Mutual respect is very important."

"You don't get to talk," Mako said irritably. "What were you even doing in this part of the city anyway? This isn't Triad territory. Were you trying to move up in the criminal underworld?"

"No, I'm really innocent, I swear," the crook insisted. "See, I got this weird letter the other day saying that I had to rob this bank, or my entire family will be killed. I really had no other choice. In fact, I could be hunted for right as we speak."

"Wow, that's terrible," Chen said, feeling empathy for the thug. "I hope your family is alright."

Mako shook his head in shame. "He's lying. Don't believe everything you hear. That's another important rule of being a cop."

"You know," said the criminal. "I'm starting to take the kid's side on this one. I don't know how anyone could get along with you when you have that attitude, pal."

The rest of the ride to the headquarters was kept in silence, primarily because Mako felt no need to continue talking. It was tiring work. The strain on his mind grew little-by-little every day, and he was in need of rest. He had been on active duty for the past four years, and a day never went by where something life-threatening didn't happen. Still, he couldn't find the strength to take time off. He loved his job almost as much as his brother. He only wished that it took less effort.

It was noon when they finally rolled up to the station, the companion car pulling in behind them. Mako escorted the man with the crooked hat out of the car, and guided him into the building. Immediately, they were passed by two laughing metalbenders, and Chen inched closer to his partner.

"Man, I really hate those elitists," he muttered under his breath.

"They can probably hear you, you know," Mako reminded him. They turned the corner and entered an elevator.

"Anyone interested in going to the big game tonight? I've got an extra pair of tickets," Officer Xiao asked curiously, the doors closing the seven men in the cramped, metal box.

"Can't. It's my son's birthday," Officer Pomi said, disappointed.

"How old is he now?" Chen asked.

"Turning ten. They grow old so fast."

"Aw… that's adorable," cooed Chen, his big eyes welling up with tears. Mako rolled his eyes in embarrassment. When the elevator doors opened up, the officers hurried out of the tight space and into the next office. Luckily, Chief Beifong was already waiting for them, occupying her time by slamming her fist on a co-workers desk and spitting such harsh words at him that he nearly burst into tears.

"Chief, we've got some prisoners here that you might be interested in," Mako said, stepping forward to his irate boss.

"Why are you bothering to bring them up here?" Lin snapped at him. "They should go right to the holding cells."

"If it's anything to you, I'd like to request for their interrogation. They were robbing a bank far outside of Triad territory, and there's just something off-putting about the whole thing."

Lin ushered the detective away. "Fine, do it. I'm a bit busy at the moment."

Mako, feeling both proud that he got a request granted and pitiful towards the thin, weak soul that Line was tormenting, turned back to his group.

"Get them prepped," he instructed simply. "Chen, you learn what these guys are doing. It may help you out in the future."

Chen gave a stern salute, and followed the men back into the elevator. As it descended, a sudden thought popped back into Lin's mind.

"Oh Mako, you have a visitor," she said with a shrug.

"A visitor?" Mako asked suspiciously. "Who would come to—"

"Mako!"

A small frame quickly ran to Mako at full speed and latched on to him, causing home to teeter and nearly fall. He was only barely able to catch himself on the frame of a nearby desk, and then he still had the extra weight to support. As Mako stumbled and winced, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the creature that gripped him tightly.

Attached to Mako was a small girl, smaller than she had any right to be. Her skin was unusually pale and creamy, and her frame was almost sickly thin. Her clothes were pristine, properly ironed and buttoned in all of the proper places. She had a loving, happy smile, a button nose and two ever-curious grey eyes. Her hair was an anomaly, flowing across her shoulders and back in pure, unnatural white. She giggled happily as she hugged onto Mako's muscular frame. Mako, on the other hand, was trying his best to hide his horror.

Her name was Sy. She was Mako's girlfriend.

Sy was nineteen years old, but looked considerably younger. She had no last name, and technically, she had no first name either, as "Sy" wasn't her real name, but merely an identity she constructed for herself because her real name "sucked". She was known by all to be overbearingly optimistic to the point that everyone who had prolonged exposure to her cheer wanted to kill themselves. On the only occasion in which she was introduced to the Avatar, she proceeded to talk about the great deeds of the bridge between two worlds for forty-five minutes, after which Korra confided in Mako that he had terrible taste in women. As it stood, there was no real reason for Mako to be dating Sy, yet like his profession; he couldn't bear to leave her. In the past four years, the firebender had gone through eight relationships, most of which lasted for only a few weeks before the unfortunate woman broke up with him. However, he had been with Sy for almost five months, which to him meant only one thing: she was a keeper.

"Sy, you really aren't supposed to be here," Mako said nervously, feeling his ribs being crushed beneath his girlfriend's hug.

"I know you said that, but you've been gone all day," Sy explained. "I just wanted to spend time with my big, strong, cop boyfriend."

"Yes, but we can do that when I'm not working," Mako said, removing the arms from his chest. Sy simply stared at him in curiosity.

"So… why don't you have a picture of me on your desk?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Wh-what?" Mako said, perplexed by her sudden change of emotion. "I had to make room for my paperwork. Also, you take all copies of our photos together."

"Oh yeah, I guess that's kind of true," Sy reasoned with herself. "So, do you know why I'm here?"

"I thought you were here to see me?"

"That's partly true, but there's something else I want to tell you," Sy stated, clasping her hands behind her back. Her button nose twitched as she smiled confidently. "Guess where I got us reservations to two days from now?"

Mako had no idea, but being a semi-wise boyfriend, he said the first thing that came to his mind. "Is it… that place you were excited to go to?"

Sy thrust her hands in the air. "Yes, it is!" she cheered enthusiastically. "It's the fanciest restaurant in Republic City: Kwong's Cuisine! Do you know how they treat their guests there?"

"Actually, I've been there before," Mako admitted. How could he forget Kwong's Cuisine? The upscale eatery, aside from being the most high-class restaurant in the city, was the location of his first date with Asami, another failed relationship that he didn't want to remember.

"And then, maybe afterwards," Sy suggested cautiously. "We can go back to my house, and you can… finally meet my pare—"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Mako said quickly. "I know you think this will be some kind of fairy tale meeting, I'm pretty sure your parents wouldn't be my biggest fans."

"Oh, you don't know that! It's not like they'd hate you the second they saw you."

Sy paused for a moment.

"Okay, maybe my dad would hate you, but my mom would be pretty much fine."

Before Mako could restate his opinion, Lin suddenly stepped between the couple, and forcefully shoved them apart.

"You two can work out your relationship drama somewhere else," she said sternly. "Mako, I need you out on a noise complaint call from the Winged-Lion District."

"A… noise complaint call? Chief, I'm not sure if something that simple really requires my attention."

"Trust me: this one does," Lin reaffirmed, her face serious and strict. In an instant, Mako knew that she wasn't messing around. If the job required sending a detective, that could only mean one thing:

Whatever it was, it must have been pretty noisy.

* * *

><p>The Winged-Lion District was home to some of the most elite patrons of Republic City. It was located far away from the rest of the dire populace, up atop a mountain where the wealthy could both figuratively and literally look down on others. As Mako drove alone up the vacant streets, he wondered what his purpose of being there was. There were almost no crimes whatsoever in the rich districts, and even if there were, they would probably be so minor that police investigation would not be necessary.<p>

But why a noise complaint?

Mako looked out at the fancy estates that he passed along the way. One home owned by a single wealthy entrepreneur could fit his entire extended family with plenty of room to spare. These mansions were usually owned by the senior, experienced business person, and these people tended to live quiet lives.

So why a noise complaint?

Mako pulled up to the marked address. He identified it as some sort of luxurious condominium, but having no experience on the subject, he could not say for certain. The surrounding neighborhood was deadly still. As he exited the car and walked to the building, he felt very uneasy. There was something dreadful about the district that he just couldn't identify, but he felt like something horrible was waiting to happen. He walked to a bright green door, and knocked thrice. An old, grouchy woman, dressed solely in a robe, opened the door, and shook her fist.

"What do you want?" she sneered.

"Uh," Mako stammered. "I got a report about a noise complaint. Would you know anything about that?"

"Ah, the damn noise!" the woman cried. She pointed up at her ceiling. "Ever since this morning, Kuzo's been playing that horrid opera music nonstop. He won't turn it down or anything. He doesn't even like opera music, so why does he keep playing it!?"

"Hmm… he doesn't like opera music," Mako thought aloud. He looked up at the balcony above his head. Above that was the room in question. As soon as his eyes left her, the senile woman slammed the door in his face, leaving him without a word. Curiously, he began to investigate. He walked around the condo until he found a stairwell. The sun was blinding him as he ascended, marching on the white stone until he reached the second floor. He carefully made his way to the room of Kuzo, whoever that happened to be.

As he approached the door, the sound of opera music filled his ears. A woman was singing a beautiful solo, her voice rising and falling like the tides, growing and fading, becoming an ever-shifting beautiful life all on its own.

Mako knocked on the door twice.

"Mr. Kuzo?" he called. "This is the police. We've got a complaint about too much noise coming from this apartment. Can you come to the door?"

The opera music continued. There were no footsteps. Mako knocked again.

"Mr. Kuzo? Open the door. This is the police. We've received a complaint about the volume of the music."

There was no response. Mako knocked again.

"Please, Mr. Kuzo, open up."

When there was still no response, Mako reached for the knob. It gave way, and the door creaked open, revealing darkness within the room.

Something wasn't right.

Mako slowly opened the door, hearing the loud groaning of the wood sliding open. It was pitch black inside of the apartment. Mako called out again.

"Hello? Mr. Kuzo, are you there?"

When no answer came, he fumbled for the light switch. He flicked it on, and the room came to life. There was nothing very fancy present. There was only a couch, a few chairs, and a radio, which played a beautiful serenade. Mako stepped forward into the apartment. There didn't seem to be any problems.

Yet, Mako knew: something unnatural was in the air.

He continued calling out, walking around the apartment in search for clues. The woman in the opera reached her grand solo. Her voice dipped and rose, ascending incredible valleys and plunging into the depths of the ocean. Mako came to the bedroom door, and curiously opened it.

Once he looked inside, he froze.

Kuzo, an elderly man with grey hair, a gentle face and round belly, was sprawled across his bed—limbs stretched in every direction, eyes rolled up in the back of his head—with multiple incisions made across his fatty stomach, and a slashed throat that was oozing blood. His sheets and bedding were dyed red, and his guts were splayed out over his torso in a gruesome work of art.

Mako's eyes wandered to the wall above Kuzo's decrepit body. Someone had written on the wall in red fluid. The character was something Mako easily recognized:

_Greedy._

As Mako stood in silence, unable to look away, the opera woman finished her tremendous solo, her falsetto voice hitting the final note in a last, glorious crescendo.


	4. State of Mind

Balance. Control. Peace.

The three were the three central concepts that Korra focused on. She refused to let her mind wander from these ideals as she sat near the water on Air Temple Island. She was alone, and the solitude granted her a state of tranquility that she found lacking elsewhere.

Initially, Korra hated meditation. It was slow, boring, cumbersome, tedious, and seemed to require such little effort that there was almost no point in doing it at all. But, once she learned to listen, concentrate, she found that she could experience a connection to the world that she never could have dreamed of. When she was focused, she could feel the gentle tide being pushed and pulled by the gravity of the moon. She could feel the surging of rock beneath her. She could feel the wind and its course throughout the sky. She could feel the movements and heartbeats of everyone in the city. To Korra, it felt like being part of nature, and strangely enough, it was soothing to her.

Sadly, it was when she was at balance, control, and peace when she was interrupted by Kai, who rudely stomped over the ground and disrupted the entire environment around him.

"Tenzin wants to see you," the crude, seventeen year-old informed her. She groaned audibly, and opened her eyes to gaze at the serene bay before her.

"You know I'm busy," Korra stated bitterly. "Everyone knows I'm busy."

"He said to come get you. It's not my fault that he insisted on doing it now."

"Well, tell him to wait. I need a clear head right now."

"He said it's urgent," Kai stated firmly. The youthful boy that Korra once known had grown into a fairly capable young man, although based on what Korra knew about boys, it probably meant that he became less mature as time went on.

"Tenzin of all people knows how important it is to meditate," said Korra. "The only reason he'd interrupt me is if there's something extremely important going on. I'm pretty sure I'd notice if something extremely important was going on."

"Why are you questioning me?" Kai asked, getting frustrated. "What is it with you and never believing anything I say?"

"Because last time you told me to leave a room, I found you and Jinora in my closet," Korra said, remembering the night painfully. She had honestly expected better from the young airbenders. She understood that they were teenagers, and were probably storing lots of pent-up energy from living a monk lifestyle, but she thought that they could have at least behaved themselves less like wild animals. When she was their age, she didn't have raging romantic and sexual desires. In fact, the worst thing she did was date Mako, and that was probably about the tamest thing she could have done.

"That was, like, a year ago!" Kai cried, feeling his cheeks grow hot. "Tenzin actually needs you now. Besides, what are you doing meditating anyway? You never do these kinds of things often."

Korra sneered. The balance, control, and peace were all but gone, replaced with the horrifying image of two love-drunk kids bundled in her closet late one weekend night.

"If you have to know, I'm a bit stressed out," Korra explained carefully.

"Relationship troubles?" Kai instantly assumed.

"She's been so busy lately. We went out to breakfast yesterday, and all she could talk about was this big meeting she had to plan for. She was obsessed with it. I'm not sure if Asami's been this stressed out in years."

"Oh man, do I know that feeling," Kai sighed, plopping himself down next to Korra and crossing his legs. "Women. Always freaking out over everything."

Korra glared at him. "Uh… you do know you're talking to me, right?"

"You know what I'm saying," Kai said quickly, trying to cover his tracks. "I just mean that… well, you see… women usually—"

"Kai, shut up before you accidently say something even more sexist."

Kai promptly said nothing.

"I know Asami is going to be fine," Korra said softly. "I mean, it's just a business meeting, and she has enough charisma to tame a wild wolf bat, but she's afraid of her company going under, which makes her afraid of letting down her family's legacy, which makes me worry about her state of mind, and it just triggers a huge, never-ending cycle of worrying over each other that just makes me want to sit here and forget all of that and be somewhat at ease so I don't chew my fingers worrying about that meeting which is going on right at this second that she could have already aced or she could have already screwed up permanently or—agh!"

Korra stood up and threw her hands in the air in defeat. "I'm going to talk to Tenzin! You've screwed up my entire mental state!"

Korra walked inland, leaving Kai alone by the blue water. He watched Korra as she went, and then shrugged, placed his hands behind his head, and lounged. He had no idea why she began speaking faster and faster, or why she suddenly decided to leave a perfectly fine—and not at all sexist—conversation. All Kai knew was that, for certain, he clearly did not understand women.

* * *

><p>Asami was sitting in a comfortable chair in a comfortable room. The lush red walls that surrounded her felt welcoming, and the sounds of the violin played over the radio. She sat at an empty desk, waiting to meet the man who, if all went well, would help save Future Industries from another economic disaster. Unfortunately, Varrick sat next to her, and his insipid babble slowly driving her mad.<p>

"So while you charm him, that's when I reach around and sucker punch the fella before he knows what's even going on!" proclaimed the mad genius.

"What are you talking about?" Asami questioned him a fifth time. "This isn't war. You're not going to sucker punch anybody."

"You know what I mean. If there's one thing for certain about Shang, it's that he has ridiculous tastes. You need to work around his head and get him to play ball our way or the highway."

"Well, that'd be easier if someone hadn't broken our demonstration two days ago."

"Hey, we have it working… mostly," Varrick explained, brushing off her hostility. "Trust me, we won't even need it all that badly if you just stick to my plan."

Asami groaned. She thought that working with Varrick would get easier over time. When they agreed to work together, they had made a pact: Varrick would stop acting like an ass, and Asami would give him creative input. She had thought, at least in her opinion, that she had successfully met that requirement. It was mostly Varrick's idea of creating a supersonic engine, and she tried not to stifle his abilities. Unfortunately, it seemed that the scoundrel from the Water Tribe had not matured as much as she had hoped. It was for this reason that Asami preferred the company of Zhu Li, who was far easier to work with in any given scenario, and who was supposed to be with them before Varrick foolishly called her off to make more repairs on the newly-developed flight suit.

All of this was to impress the industrialist known as Shang. Asami was familiar with Shang, although her knowledge of him only came recently. Shang used to be a criminal, evading taxes and committing multiple acts of fraud throughout his young adult life. In the years before the fall of the Earth Empire, however, his life had completely turned around. By amassing resources through unknown deeds, he became the head of Ingenious Enterprises, one of the most powerful shipping companies in the world. The man, now nearing his mid-thirties, was said to be an extremely unlikeable human being, which only made Asami despise her life that much more.

"You know, you're insufferable," Asami stated angrily. "Seriously, it's like all you ever do is try to screw up my life."

"Hey, you came to me for help, remember," retorted Varrick. "Besides, I didn't have to help you out. I just thought we were buddies now. We saved the city together! If you don't want my help, I'll just leave now."

"No, don't actually go," Asami said, attempting to control her emotions. "Look, let's get through this damn interview, and then we can calm down and get everything back to normal. Deal?"

"Deal!"

Asami looked at Varrick suspiciously, and he looked at her with equal feeling. He did not say anything, which made it all the more peculiar for someone else to have agreed to the arrangement at the same time. The inventors turned around in their seats, noticing that the brass doors of the room had been pushed open, and a lanky figure leaned in the entryway. With a flamboyant posture that highlighted his groin and his smooth, incandescent face, Shang made his presence known with as much style as he could muster.

Asami let out a disappointed sigh. She could already tell that she would be in for a rough time.

"Varrick, I thought you married that assistant of yours," said Shang, taking long strides to his desk before kicking up his feet. "What are you doing hanging around this dame for?"

"Did you just call me a dame?" Asami asked, disgusted.

"Zhu Li's working on important business elsewhere," Varrick said, completely unfazed. "This is Asami Sato, head of Future Industries. She's the reason we're here."

Shang wore thick sunglasses despite the room being dimly lit. He lowered them to look over Asami's body, and then put them back on.

"So you're the woman who helped save Republic City from Kuvira?" he asked, remarkably unimpressed.

"If that's what matters, then yes," grunted Asami. "Mr. Shang, if we could just have a talk about—"

"Do you have any idea how much money I lost in that deal?" Shang asked. "One minute, I'm helping Kuvira manage supplies for her soldiers in a highly-solidifed contract, and the next, I'm being told that peace has arrived, and I'm out of one of the best marketing deals of my life!"

"You had a contract with Kuvira?" said Varrick. "That's impossible: I had a contract with Kuvira! I was designing new energy sources for her, which inadvertently became a super weapon. Where were you during all that time?"

Asami spoke up. "Guys, can we get to discussion or—"

"The Earth Emprie was a big place," Shang said snidely. "I was on the other side of the continent doing crucial research. The only reason you got to get in Kuvira's inner circle was because Ingenious Enterprises doesn't get personally involved with madmen, something you clearly never figured out!"

Varrick rose from his seat, shaking his fist. "Don't call me a madman! The reason I got in Kuvira's inner circle was that I deserved to be there, unlike you, who just like to sit back and watch other people do his dirty work!"

"Varrick, sit down," Asami ordered. "You're really not helping anything. What does any of this have to do with anything?"

"If I knew this scum was going behind my back all these years, I never would have trusted him with anything!"

"How could he be going behind your back if you didn't even know each other back then?" Asami asked reasonably.

"Shut up, honey," Shang said bluntly. "Let the men figure this one out. Now listen to me Varrick, you stupid son of a—whoa!"

All at once, Asami stood up, grabbed both men's collars, and pulled them in close.

"You both need to shut up," she said angrily. "I've been freaking out for months trying to get my company back at full capacity. This is the best chance I have to set things straight, and I'm not letting you two ruin it before it even begins. Varrick, you're a idiot. Shang, I've just met you and I already can't stand to be around you. Trust me, I don't want to be around you either, but if Future Industries is going to survive, I need your help. So, why don't we all just sit down, stay quiet, and get with this meeting like we're supposed to? Agreed?"

Shang smiled and snapped his fingers. "I like your tenacity, Miss Sato. Let's call it a deal."

"What? But… we haven't even showed you what we've been working on?" Asami asked feeling puzzled. She released her grasp on Shang's shirt, and he brushed out the wrinkles.

"You don't trust inventions; you trust people," Shang explained. "And I think you're a very trustworthy and hardworking person. Let's work things out the details over lunch."

"Great," said Varrick, already springing out the door. "See, Asami? I told you that all you had to do was butter him up."

Asami said nothing. She had no idea what was going on, but apparently, something good had happened. At least she could be happy about that.

* * *

><p>When Korra entered the dining room, she was surprised to see Lin there as well. Tenzin looked stricken with grief.<p>

"What's going on?" she asked. "You look like someone has died."

"Korra, are you familiar with a man named Kuzo?" Tenzin asked solemnly.

"I've never heard of him."

"I wouldn't expect you to," he admitted. "Kuzo was an old friend of mine. He used to be a radio broadcaster; one of the first to make audio shows popular. He was a very kind, gentle man, and he was one of the first people to welcome me and Pema to Republic City."

"He 'was' a good man? Did something happen to him?"

"We found his corpse last night," Lin stated, her voice teetering on the edge of sadness. "He was stabbed multiple times, but ended up dying from heart failure due to the strain on his body."

"That's… that's horibble," Korra said softly. She looked away from Tenzin, unable to see his pain-ridden face. Korra was not an expert on the human body, at least not the physical aspects of it. She knew the basics, like which parts went where and belonged to whom, but she couldn't decipher a liver from a kidney. Despite all of that, she did know that if a man was stabbed multiple times and did not die of blood loss, then it had to mean that the cuts were non-lethal in nature; in other words: torture.

"So, someone killed your friend?" Korra filled in the blanks. "And you want my help to find him and bring him to justice?"

"No," Tenzin said, much to Korra's surprise. "I hope justice can be arranged from these circumstances, but under no conditions should we actively seek retribution. Korra, Pema and I are leaving for Omashu in order to meet up with Kuzo's wife. We've already met with his children in the city. We want you to stay here and watch over the kids over the next week while we're away."

"What?" Korra asked, feeling stupefied. "There's a killer on the loose, and you want me to stay here and babysit? Why can't you let Jinora or one of the other airbenders do it?"

"Because I trust you to do it the most," Tenzin explained. "Kya's in the Southern Water Tribe, Bumi's in the Fire Nation, and honestly, Jinora's starting to become… negligent. Besides, you're one of the few people Rohan is willing to listen to."

"But the city needs me," Korra argued. "If there's a murderer out there someone, the Avatar should be there to bring him down."

"Don't worry about that," said Lin. "The police are taking care of it. I've already assigned Mako to the case, and as much as your help would be appreciated, it's not the Avatar's duties to stop all crime everywhere. That's our responsibility."

"Korra, don't get involved in something you shouldn't," Tenzin advised her.

Deep down, Korra knew that her mentor was only looking out for her. He had just lost a close friend, and he was trying his best to make sure that no one else got hurt. Even though she was the Avatar, and could take care of herself against any possible assailant, to him, she was still the young child tugging on his beard after meeting him for the first time.

"If you don't want me getting involved, I won't," Korra said, partially hating herself as she said it. "Just make sure that you nab the bastard, okay?"

"We're already on it," Lin smirked. "Mako's talented enough, and he's got a good team working for him. I don't think this crook will be causing any more problems from here on out."

* * *

><p><strong>Note: We at GodSaveTheKings highly value feedback, and encourage the reader to review if they have anything worth noting. We try our best to answer any questions we receive, so feel free to ask.<strong>


	5. When the Clock Strikes Nine

The blood oozed slowly out of Kuzo's midsection, dripping onto the floor in miniscule puddles. Mako covered his nose; a rancid odor filled the room. The character written on the wall was spilling on the bed, yet its horrible shape remained intact. Mako tried to look away, but could not. A strange, morbid fascination drew him closer to the bulging eyes, the throbbing neck, the warm liquid. He felt the terror grow inside of him, and he saw a gentle hand reaching towards the body, meaning to caress it, and he found himself drawing in closer, and closer, and then—

"Mako, are you alright?"

Dim lights. Soft jazz music. Succulent scents. All at once, Mako resumed his place in reality. Beads of sweat drizzled down his forehead. Sy sat across from him, staring at him with a conflicted look of confusion and frustration. She wore a red dress that sparkled in the warmth of the light; he wore his nicest suit. He looked down at his plate—a delicious mixture of meat and noodles—and then looked back at his girlfriend, trying to show any emotion other than terror.

"I'm fine," he lied to her. She squinted.

"Are you sure? Because you keep… well, it's like you're blacking out on me. Something's on your mind."

"That's nonsense," he told her, tugging on his collar. "You're the only thing on my mind tonight."

"Is that so?" she asked, highly suspicious. "Then why are you sweating like that? Am I making you feel that nervous?"

"No, everything is fine," Mako repeated. Perhaps, he figured, if he kept saying that everything was fine, everything would be. Maybe his thoughts would return to normal. Maybe the images and the smells and the sounds of opera music blaring into the twilight would all fade away.

"You know, I'm feeling a bit duped," Sy stated.

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's just… do you have any idea how hard it was to set this date up?" explained the white-haired woman. "Seriously, the amount of variables that I had to account for is staggering. It took me weeks to get a reservation in this place, because I kept getting brushed aside because they think I'm just a kid, which I'm not. Then I had to convince my father to help me get everything in place, but he didn't even want to help because he's a prick. And then, I come all the way here, wearing this dumb, expensive dress which you haven't even complimented on me yet, and when I finally get this done, you act like you've died and come back as a ghost."

Sy crossed her arms, and angrily grunted. Mako immediately pulled himself together. The young lady sitting across from him never got upset without a reason, and even though she most likely wasn't capable of animosity, he still understood that he had seriously messed up.

"I'm sorry, really," he said earnestly. "I've just been distracted by this murder case. I saw something really awful, and I haven't been all there recently because of it. I just need some time to pull it together. And, if it means anything, you really do look beautiful tonight."

"A murder case is giving you psychological trauma, huh?" Sy questioned him. However, she rolled her eyes and smiled. "Okay… that's a pretty decent excuse. So, wanna give me the details?"

"What? No way!" said Mako defensively. "You have no right to that information. It's not something you should hear about, anyway."

"Oh, really? Are you sure I can't change your mind on that?" Sy leaned forward across the table. She puckered her face and pressed in her chest with her shoulders, pushing forward her cleavage and wiggling slightly.

Mako just sighed. "Sy, people are staring at you."

It took a moment for Sy to open her eyes, upon which she noticed the dozen or so eyes glaring awkwardly in her direction. She laughed nervously, and lowered herself back into her seat.

"You should still tell me," she insisted. "I think I can handle it."

"I'm not telling you, at least not now anyway," said Mako, taking another bite of his meal. Sy groaned dejectedly.

"Fine! If you really don't think I should know, then don't tell me. Let's just spend the rest of the nights talking about all of my problems."

"You already told me all of your problems."

"Not all of them. And don't sound so upset about it. You're supposed to want to listen to your woman."

"Okay, Sy," said Mako, realizing he was going to be in for a long night. "How is everything going in your life?"

Sy pressed her chopsticks against her fish and rice. "Oh, everything is just great," she said through clenched teeth. "It took me weeks to get a reservation for this stupid, dumb restaurant, and then I had to listen to my stupid, dumb parent complain about my choices in my life, and then my stupid, dumb boyfriend—who is stupid and dumb—treats me like a kid and refuses to tell me about anything interesting, which makes me want to grab his stupid, dumb head and…"

The chopsticks struck the bottom of the bowl, and were nearly bent in half by the force of her small, pale fist. Mako rested his head in his hands.

"I got a call to investigate a noise complaint, and when I got there, I found a mutilated corpse and bloody writing on the wall," he stated. "The guy was some wealthy star from the early radio days. I'm looking into more details of his death. That's really all that's going on."

Sy removed her chopsticks from the bowl. "Now, was that really so hard to say?"

"I'm not really allowed to talk about an ongoing investigation. If Lin ever finds out, I'm screwed."

"Who cares about Beifong?" Sy asked rhetorically. "We're a couple, and couple's don't keep secrets from each other." She took a large, unladylike bite of her food, causing her small cheeks to puff out like a squirrel. "I always tell you everything. Like, I'm actually the psychotic murderer and I'm planning on taking you home and cannibalizing you."

Mako said nothing, causing Sy to burst into a fit of giggles.

"I'm joking, silly!" she laughed, swallowing her food in one mighty gulp. "I mean, probably…"

* * *

><p>Republic City contained both good and evil. At night, these features were exaggerated, expanded, creating a world that was wondrously beautiful and heartlessly manipulative. Depending on the region, one could either experience lovely vistas or be kidnapped and vanish into the night. One might be able to purchase rare oddities, or have part of themselves become a purchasable rare oddity. Those unfamiliar with the landscape had to be careful in the dark, sticking to the highly populated areas and avoiding any shady characters. At night, Republic City was a case of black or white.<p>

However, on occasion, shades of grey were dipped into. The most notable of these greys were the street races. Over the past year, the rebellious youth had devised an event to fulfill their urges for adrenaline. Once per week, they would gather with their fast cars and their obnoxious smirks and their high-inducing substances, and would host a race around the city. These events were the most troublesome activities for the police, who had been chasing the teenagers down to no avail. Even if they were arrested for disturbing the public, they only seemed to be replaced by a dozen more eager youngsters who were just as capable. It had reached a point where the police almost didn't bother, because the effort would be almost completely wasted.

As it was on this night, the group of twenty racers gathered with their fastest cars and most obnoxious smirks near a high-end section of the city. The starting location would change, but the rituals remained constant. They would laugh and insult one another, talking of women and alcohol and glory. They had fans surrounding them, joining in the trash talk and hurling names every which way. It was all in preparation of the nightly race, which was scheduled to last for a good half-hour and lap all the way around the city. If one wanted to, and knew the right person to do so, they would be able to acquire the knowledge of the route and would be able to cheer on their favorite racer as they passed by. The police once attempted to put an end to the races this way, but found that they were being continuously duped by the occasionally intellectual teenagers. The races continued, and the racers had their fun.

One of these racers went by the name of Bow, a name which none of his colleagues knew was real or fabricated. He was the current champion of the street race, having one the last six events by a wide margin. His greased hair was slicked over his face, and his eyes were like that of a hawk. He never spoke, unless it was to stroke his own ego, which he did often. In actuality, he was the timid son of a factory worker, but on the streets, he could be whoever he wanted to be.

That said, when Mako and Sy happened to pass by and the detective spoke his mind, he felt a bit terrified on the inside.

"You know that street racing is illegal, right?" Mako asked warningly. The wave of teenagers simply laughed at him.

"Who cares? We're not hurting anybody!" said on the group members.

"Are you gonna call the police?" another taunted him.

"Get out of the way, you ass!" cried someone else.

Sy tugged on Mako's arm. After their meal had concluded, they had decided to take a long stroll throughout the city streets. It was a decent change of pace; Mako was always busy with his work, and Sy was usually pent up in her house like a lab rat. They had only been walking for a few minutes before Mako saw the teens revving up their engines and guided Sy towards them. All Sy wanted was a nice, quiet evening, but Mako, being the incredible idiot that he was, had to put his police duties first. As it was now, Sy was sick of spending another second with police Mako.

"Let's just leave them," she insisted, pulling on his muscular forearm. He remained firmly planted.

"They're breaking the law," he said unhappily. "I need to report them, or scold them, or something."

"Who cares about them? They're just looking for something to do. Besides, you promised me that you wouldn't deal with your work tonight."

Mako gave one final stare, and then gave in. He led her away from the crowd of drivers, who were jeering him and shouting insults as he went away. He led Sy through a side street, down several blocks, passing by various stores selling food and jewelry and fancy appliances that he could not afford to get. Once his mind was taken off the meddlesome youth, he began to think of other things to talk about. Sy liked conversation, which was one of the reasons why he liked her. There were so many things in his life that he could talk about, and it was comforting to know that someone was always open to listening and acted reassuring. Granted, there were other people in his life who could accomplish the same goal, but they all had some detracting factor. Bolin was brotherly, which was both a blessing and a curse. Korra was helpful and mostly courteous, but when she didn't like something he said or did, she was very blunt in telling him how wrong he actually was, maybe even throwing in an insult for good measure. Asami was probably the easiest to talk to, but she had her own problems going on, and if she was running out of time to talk to Korra, then she didn't really have any left to spare on him. He greatly enjoyed his friends, and luckily, so did Sy, who acted like they were her own kin.

"So, I hear that Bolin is going to be on the Pro-bending game tomorrow," Sy stated offhandedly. "What do you think he's going to talk about?"

"He's Bolin," Mako said simply. "He'll say something."

"Man, you're so lucky to have a brother. I wish I had a sibling."

"The problem with siblings is that you don't really appreciate having them until you need them. Bolin's saved me more times than I can count, but when we younger I was always annoyed by him."

"Hmm… do you think we'll ever have kids some day?" Sy asked innocently. Mako nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in shock. "We haven't even… no, let's just not talk about that stuff."

Sy giggled. "I'm just kidding."

"Well, stop kidding," Mako groaned. "I never know when I can take you seriously or not."

The couple stopped for a brief moment as Sy needed to adjust her heel. They happened to take their rest at an old clock tower, which had been running for forty years and still chimed appropriately on every hour. It was vastly approaching nine, yet the pair had no plans on going back home. The night was young; there was still so much to be done.

Mako looked across the street as Sy fumbled with her shoe. There was no particular reason for him to look, yet his eyes were drawn there by some unseen force. A man was standing alone across from him, wearing a thick green goat and glasses with dark rims. The sole source of light came from the clock, which illuminated one side of the street a dull yellow. The man was looking from side to side, almost as if he was checking to see if someone was watching him. Mako barely thought anything of it. Then, the clock's hand moved, and it struck the hour, signaling the series of rings from its enclosed, rusted bell.

_One._

From further up the road, twenty engines roared to life. Headlights appeared far away.

_Two._

The race had begun. The cars were speeding down the street, passing each other, moving hazardously towards the clock tower.

_Three._

Sy finished adjusting her heel, and tugged on Mako's arm. He remained in place, staring at the man. He seemed incredibly familiar for some reason, but Mako had no idea why.

_Four._

Mako looked at the man closely. Through the darkness, he noticed that the man was trembling uncontrollably, and was muttering something to himself.

_Five._

Tears were streaming down the man's face. Mako felt the sudden urge to move, but his body did not respond. He simply stood there and stared at the man across the street.

_Six._

Sy turned towards what Mako was staring emptily at. She didn't understand what was going on. Mako felt an overpowering sense of dread. The man noticed them staring at him, and closed his eyes.

_Seven._

He stepped into the middle of the road.

_Eight._

There was a blurry streak, a splatter of blood, a shout of pain and horror and confusion. A car swerved and crashed into the opposite sidewalk as chunks of flesh rained onto the pavement.

_Nine._

Silence. Everything went numb. The remaining cars passed without making a sound. Mako did not blink. He only saw a muddy haze, and only heard the repeated, bland thumping of his heart in his ears.

Then, all at once, reality broke through the haze. Sy let out a bloodcurdling scream, and collapsed. Mako's instincts took over. He waited for the last car to pass, and then dashed madly across the street. He ran over to the car, which had slammed into a stone wall and was billowing smoke out of the engine. The young racer Bow stumbled out of the car, gasping for air.

"He… he came out of nowhere," he muttered breathlessly to himself. Mako grabbed onto his shoulders, and stared into his eyes.

"What just happened?" Mako questioned him. "You just hit someone. What… what were you doing?"

"I… I didn't mean to kill anyone!" Bow said hysterically. "You have to… believe me! He just… he just came out and… I didn't mean it! Please, I'm so sorry and I didn't… oh please no…"

Bow fell to his knees, crying and wheezing and pleading all at once. Mako didn't know what to do or what to say. He backed away, and went into the road. The bloody torso of the man lied in a crumpled mess in the road. There was no chance that he was alive, but Mako couldn't help but check for a pulse. He was breathing heavily, looking around for someone that might have the answers. Bow was crying in a pathetic mess. Sy sat next to the clock tower, staring at the accident before her with wide, empty eyes.

Mako looked down at the body beneath him. It was staring forever up at the clock tower, its blank gaze watching time tick away. And then, all at once, Mako realized why he the man looked familiar. They had never met, but Mako knew his face from seeing it earlier that day in his investigation. The man, who was lying in pieces across the road, was Kuzo's son.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: We at GodSaveTheKings highly value feedback, and encourage the reader to review if they have anything worth noting. We try our best to answer any questions we receive, so feel free to ask.<strong>


	6. Over the Phone

"Well, tonight's match is looking up to be a promising one!" claimed the excited sportscaster. "It's the Fire Ferrets against the Boar-q-pines in what's sure to be one of the matches of the season. These teams have had a rivalry in recent years unlike anything we've ever seen before."

"Yeah, it's pretty intense," said another voice. "Pro-benders these days are really fired up. Get it? Fired up? Fire Ferrets?"

"No folks, you are not mistaken. That is, in fact, the voice of the man joining me in the booth on this special night. He is the former pro-bending and mover icon of the world: Bolin!"

"It's a pleasure to be here tonight, Mr. Shinobi. I can't wait for things to get started."

The radio was the only source of audio in the desolate office aside from a flickering bulb in a dying lamp. Sounds of cheering burst through the speaker, echoing in the empty space. There were but two lone souls remaining in the police station at such a late hour. Their only decent source of entertainment came from the little brown box, and given their taxing work, entertainment was desperately required.

Chen sat in front of the radio with crossed legs, listening intently and smiling as if he was not in a dark, looming office. Mako was hunched over his desk, staring at the files that poured over his desk and consumed him. Last night, he had witnessed a suicide most surely by coincidence, and he could not fully wrap his head around the details. Bow—the young driver who was participating in the street race that led to the act of manslaughter—was taken in for questioning earlier that day, although he was shortly released. It was Lin who insisted on interrogating the poor soul, who was sniffling and crying for his parents for the duration of the process. Mako was skeptical from the beginning; he knew the poor kid wasn't a murderer. It was an unfortunate accident, one that would probably haunt Bow for the rest of his life. Worst of all, it wasn't his fault at all.

The blame truly laid with Feng, Kuzo's young son. According to Mako's files, Feng was a miserable wretch who had been living in poverty for several years. He was a petty thief, a poor investor, a disrespectful son, and a shameful mark on his entire family. Now, he was dead, his body lying in pieces in the morgue.

"You know, people really seem to like your brother," Chen said suddenly.

"Yeah, he's an icon alright," Mako agreed half-heartedly.

"I remember when I first saw a Nuktuk mover," Chen reflected. "It was so cool, unlike anything I've ever seen before. It had action, and drama, and then there was that scene where Nuktuk picked up the boulder and—"

"Could you keep quiet a little? I'm trying to work over here."

"You should try to be a little more like your brother, Mako," Chen suggested. "He's such a nice guy, and he seems like a good listener and—"

"Okay Chen, I get it," Mako groaned. He looked closer at his files, but finding nothing, slammed his fist into the desk. "Man, I just don't get it."

"Get what?"

"These deaths," explained Mako. "It feels like they're related somehow, but nothing is lining up."

"How is nothing lining up? I think it's pretty obvious: father gets guilt, son feels depressed about it, ends his own life to be with his dad. Done, case closed."

"Except that Kuzo and Feng haven't spoken to each other in years. That's the weird part. The two of them seemed to have drifted pretty far apart. The last time they were near each other, Feng nearly robbed his father blind. They were barely connected. When Feng was informed about his father dying, the report says that he showed almost no emotion about it whatsoever. I'm not sure a suicide could be so easily caused by the death of someone that is barely considered family at all."

"Hey, family runs deep," was all Chen could say. "It's possible that Feng wanted to reunite, and then a tragedy happened. Maybe he felt so guilty that he took his own life to compensate all of the evil. Heck, maybe he actually was the killer, and since he felt so horrible about the act afterwards, he couldn't live with himself." Chen stopped to admire his own train of thought. "Yeah… that's why he acted indifferent when he was told that Kuzo died, because he already knew he was dead! It's why 'greedy' was written on the wall: because Feng was a thief! Ha! If that's the case, then we don't even have to hunt down a murderer anymore; he's already taken care of. It's a win-win… except, well, I guess not that pretty of one if you think about it."

Mako sighed. It was a possibility; in fact, it was a very likely possibility. Grief was one of the most devastating weapons of all. It could pull a person down into the depths of the earth; rip apart their emotions, shut off their cognitive thinking entirely. Guilt was just as bad, if not even worse. Grief, guilt, rage, anguish: all were common emotions that could push one over the edge. Was that the answer? Was a family torn apart by a horrific murder—a murder possible committed by one of its own—and then in order to get back stability, and love, and cherishment, someone took their own life in a bloody spectacle?

There were only two problems Mako saw to this theory. One was the murder of Kuzo, and its methodology. Kuzo wasn't simply killed briefly without thought. He was maimed, tortured for hours, if not days before his end came. The act didn't fit Feng's psychological profile. The son was a thief, not a killer. He was a weak, cowardly man, one nearly incapable of torturing his father for such a lengthy period of time. He most likely didn't even have the medical knowledge to perform the acts. And if he felt such guilt afterwards, wouldn't he have experienced guilt while he was still torturing a man? Wouldn't he have realized his mistake sooner? How did he break into Kuzo's apartment, and how did no one find any evidence of him the next day when the police talked to him?

There was only one other problem Mako had with that theory. He was there when Feng stepped into the street at nine o'clock at night. Feng did not look remorseful, or burdened, or pained, or frustrated, or tired, or depressed, or unhappy. He looked afraid.

The phone on Mako's desk began to ring, startling him out of his thoughts. He suspected it might have been Sy. If it wasn't, it didn't change the fact that he needed to talk to her. After last night, she had barely uttered a single word to him. He could only imagine what she must have been going through. He could handle the sight of gore rather decently, but she was too innocent, too pure hearted to know how to deal with such graphic imagery. Nervously, Mako picked up the phone.

"This is Detective Mako," he said officially. "What do you need?"

"Hey, Mako. It's me."

The detective quickly recognized the voice. "Korra? What's going on?"

"Nothing really. That's sort of the problem. You said that you'd be working overtime, so I called you up."

"Yeah, but why?" he asked.

"Because there's nothing else to do," the Avatar groaned. "Tenzin's making me watch over things while he's out of the city. I just need someone to talk to."

"Hi Korra!" Chen shouted loudly.

"Hi Chen!" Korra returned his greeting with such cheer that Mako had to shove the blaring speaker away from his face. "So, are you listening to Bolin right now? He's actually doing pretty well on the commentary."

"You know," Mako said dejectedly. "I'm kind of working on something right now. It probably isn't the best time to talk."

"Is it that murder case?" Korra asked, concerned. "I meant to ask about that. It's horrible; such a nice guy having a horrible thing happen to him. Do you know how his family is holding up?"

"I have no idea how his daughter is. His son… his son died yesterday."

Korra was silent.

"Are you still there?"

"Yeah… I'm here," she sighed. "That's just awful. Was he—"

"No. Suicide. Saw it happen right in front of my eyes."

"Oh jeez… how did it happen? Are you holding up okay?"

"I'm feeling alright," said Mako firmly. "I just need to focus on solving this case."

"I'm telling you: Feng was the killer!" Chen said, throwing his arms up in disbelief. "He was acting out of guilt! The evidence is right in front of your face, and you still won't believe me! I know I'm onto something!"

Mako snapped. "Chen, not now. Anyway, it's been a pretty rough week."

"I really wish I could help you out in some way," Korra said honestly. "I want you to know that if there's anything I can do to help, all you need to do is ask, and then I'll be right on it."

"That's good to hear, but you shouldn't get too wrapped up in this. I think I can handle it. If you really want to help, you could convince Sy to stop making weird innuendos. Last night, she told me that she'd kidnap me and tie me in her basement, or something. Seriously, I can deal with murder, but that girl is starting to drive me nuts."

"Wait… you two are still dating?" Korra asked, her mood shifting from burdened to mildly amused within seconds. "I thought you broke up with that maniac months ago."

"No, we're still together," Mako said, taking pain in his own words. "You just didn't like her at all."

"Man, you have terrible choices in women," Korra joked. "I know that includes me, but you need to get that through your head."

Korra liked that particular joke. It was an easy joke to make, and it was easy to slip it into any practical conversation. She didn't know what made it so funny—the insult towards herself, the insult at Mako, or the fact that it was all true—but she was fond of it. Even now, when she was in a conversation focused primarily on murder, she still found a reason to use it. It was what she needed in such grim circumstances: levity.

She heard a clicking noise coming from her receiver. "Hold on," she informed Mako. "I've got someone on the other line. Give me a second."

It took Korra some fumbling to switch lines. In her dimly-lit room, she was sprawled across her bed, wearing nothing but undergarments; her legs were crossed over each other, and her hair was splayed out in a brown heap. She scratched her toned stomach with one hand as her other fingers tapped across the base of the phone. If someone was to walk in on her, they would probably find her revolting. Korra didn't care; her appearance really meant nothing, because no matter what she looked like, she was still herself.

"Hello?" she asked tiredly.

"Korra? It's Asami. We need to talk."

Immediately, Korra snapped to attention. She repositioned herself so that she was lying in a somewhat less exposing position. She patted down her hair back into place, straightened her shoulders, and draped a blanket over her legs.

"Oh, Asami," Korra said both happily and nervously. "What's going on? It's, uh, pretty late for a phone call."

"I meant to call you sooner, but I got sidetracked," Asami admitted. "Listen, there's something I want to tell you."

"Well, I'm actually on the phone with Mako right now," Korra said shamefully. The last impression she wanted to give was that she was blowing off her girlfriend to have a meaningful conversation with Mako. But then, inspiration struck. "Wait, I'll just connect you guys so we can all talk together!"

"Wait Korra," Asami said worriedly. "I kind of wanted us to talk in priva—"

Before Asami could finish, the transition was done. As it was, she found herself caught in the middle of a conversation that she really had no reason being a part of.

"Mako, I've got Asami on the line," Korra said with a hint of pride.

"Why did you do that?" Mako asked in confusion. He backtracked, "Not that I don't want to speak with her, which I do, but she really doesn't have anything to do with what we were talking about."

"Mako's right," said Asami. "I don't even know what you guys are doing, unless talking about Bolin. He sounds really good out there."

"I know, right?" Korra agreed. "Actually, I was ripping on Mako's girlfriend."

"The one I haven't met yet?"

"Yeah, and be glad you haven't."

"Korra, that's pretty harsh," Asami scolded. "But enough of that. Mako, can you please get off of the line? I have some… girl problems I need to talk to Korra about."

"You two can have all the space you need," Mako said sternly. "I have an investigation to work on. I don't know how I got distracted from that for so long, but it needs to end now."

"Aw," complained Chen suddenly. "But your friends are so fun to hang out with. By the way, congratulations on the engagement."

Mako raised an eyebrow. "Engagement? I'm not engaged."

"Not you," Chen explained. "Haven't you been paying any attention to the radio?"

"No, I haven't. I've been talking. Why?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious," Chen stated. "Your brother just announced his engagement twenty seconds ago. So, congratulations: you've just become a brother-in-law."

* * *

><p><strong>Note: Sorry if this chapter is a bit shorter than usual. We've been kind of busy the past week. Hopefully we can make these longer as we continue. As always, leave feedback if you can (seriously, that would be really cool of you), and we'll see you next time.<strong>


	7. The Positives (and Negatives) of Love

Bolin and Opal had taken up their residence in an apartment on the north side of Republic City. The pair had agreed to live together shortly after the revival of their relationship, although the apartment rarely saw much use unless the two were staying in the city, which was a rarity all unto itself. They had been spending the majority of their time anywhere else, ranging from the freezing ice caps to the colossal mountains of the northern continent. Opal was still very much loyal to the cause of the Air Nomads, and she could not have been persuaded to remain fixed in one location knowing that others were still in need of assistance elsewhere. Bolin was essentially her traveling compatriot, but he never felt diminished in his role, always acting very much like an equal.

There had only been a handful of other occasions when the two settled down in one place for more than a month or two. Most of the time, it was caused by them visiting a family member or attending a grand event. Yet, it was on this particular night that the two settled down to celebrate their own significant event: their engagement.

The apartment wasn't large or extravagant, but it didn't need to be. There were only the essentials: a dining table, a stove, a large bed and bedroom, a fridge, a bathroom, a couch, and a radio. For the Bolin and Opal, snuggling together late at night under a silky blanket, it was absolutely perfect. They were at peace.

Unfortunately, it was at this hour that a loud banging began on the door, disrupting the atmosphere.

"Who could that be?" Opal wondered. Bolin merely shrugged.

"Eh, it can't be that important," he reasoned, finding a mediocre excuse not to get up from the couch. "Who else would knock at midnight?'

The question miraculously answered itself. "Bolin! It's your brother! Open the damn door now!"

Bolin, for all of the wondrous things he had done over his life, had made a mistake this night. He had goofed so erroneously that it was almost impossible to ever trust his judgment on anything ever again. He shared a worried glance with Opal, looking for some emotional support. She gave him a confused shrug. Taking a deep breath, the young earthbender rose from the couch and walked to the door. He placed his hand on the handle, but did not turn it.

"Aren't you going to open it?" she asked him expectantly.

"Would you open it if you did what I did?"

Opal shook her head. "I told you that you should have let them know."

Bolin gulped. He knew he couldn't hide behind the wooden door forever. Timidly, he turned the handle, and slightly pulled the door ajar. Within seconds, Mako, Korra and Asami all tumbled into the room, falling over each and winding up in a heap on the ground. Bolin laughed nervously.

"Hey guys," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "So… what brings you all here?"

Mako sprung off of the ground and grabbed Bolin by the shoulders, shoving him against a wall. "Why didn't you tell us you were getting married?" Mako snarled.

Bolin shuddered. "Oh man, please don't kill me! I just found love!"

"Mako, get off of him," said Asami, pulling away her psychotic ex. Bolin, once released, hugged the wall, fearful for his life.

"Phew… thanks, Asami," he gasped. "It's good to see you again. By the way, you're looking—ack!"

Before he could finish, Asami grabbed onto his shoulders and violently shoved him against the wall.

"Why didn't you tell us that you were getting married?" she asked, outraged.

"Why are you people so angry!?' Bolin asked desperately. "This is supposed to be a happy occasion!"

Korra stood up, and shook Asami's shoulders, causing her to release her grip. "Babe, I don't think that helps right now." In a moment, Bolin was released yet again, falling to his knees. However, he noticed Korra take a step towards him, and he raised his arms in defense.

"Korra, if you shove me against the wall, I'm going to lose it!" he stated, a manic look in his eye.

Korra groaned. "I'm not going to shove you against the wall."

Bolin let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, thank you. Now, maybe I can have a chance to—erk!"

Bolin, unfortunately, didn't have a chance to finish speaking as Korra sucker punched him in the gut, causing him to collapse in agony.

"_That_ was for not telling us," Korra said sternly. She crossed her arms and grimaced at him, which Blin did not see as he was rolling on the floor. Opal hurriedly ran over and stepped in-between her fiancé and her friends.

"Can we stop hitting each other for just a second?" Opal begged. She turned to Bolin, worriedly. "Honey, are you alright?"

"Oh man," Bolin said through clenched teeth. "I'm pretty sure that punch ruptured… everything. Just… just every part of my body."

It took several minutes for the excitement to die down. Bolin was gently brought back to his feet, and Opal helped him maintain his balance. Meanwhile, the rest of his friends waited around patiently and resisted the urge to smack Bolin further or hug him tighter than ever before. It was one of the strangest feelings of empathy and disgust they had ever experienced. They were so immensely happy, and yet so furious that they could not focus on anything.

"Now, I know you're probably wondering the same thing," Bolin said knowingly. "Why did I decide to announce our engagement on live radio before telling it to our closest friends and family?"

"Including me," Mako added bitterly.

"Yes, well… I have an answer," stated Bolin. "The truth is: I didn't tell any of you guys because I thought it would be more fun to surprise you this way."

The three merely stared at him in disbelief.

"You left us in the dark because it would be more fun?" Korra asked, shocked.

"Well, Bolin and I were talking about it," said Opal. "We figured that it might hassle you to call you all down individually and tell you. Then you'd all have to take time out of your day just to manage us."

"So I figured, I'm already doing an interview during the pro-bending match that you'll be listening to anyway," Bolin reasoned. "It made a lot of sense, and it allowed us to get the information out all at once. It also made for a pretty cool public event. Besides, now we all get to be together to celebrate."

"So, you didn't bother telling us this earth-shattering news because you wanted it to come across as a spectacle?" Mako asked. "That's… that's a very dumb idea."

"Yes it is, Mako. Yes it is," Bolin agreed intelligently, nodding his head. "You see, I wasn't counting on you three being so… excited about it. I probably could have saved a lot of abdominal pain that way. So, what do you guys think?"

What did they think? Obviously, Bolin knew they felt some distrust, and probably some anger, and maybe a bit of betrayal as well. Hopefully, they would be able to move past that, or at least, that was his assumption. They were his closest friends. They would always be there to support him, especially when something of this magnitude happened.

After several seconds of awkward silence, Mako finally smiled.

"Come over here and hug me, you psychotic ass."

Like a child running into his father's arms, Bolin leapt into Mako's grasp, and gave his brother the biggest hug he could muster. Asami and Korra couldn't help but smirk at the event; it was positively adorable. The animosity had washed away, and they couldn't help but join in on the massive hug as well.

The five young adults eventually made their way to the dining table, where they sat and talked endlessly about the news. Opal brought out some sparkling beverage, and it was gulped down hastily. They talked for hours about details. Mako proudly proclaimed himself best man, to which Bolin replied by telling him that the position was already being considered for Pabu. Asami asked about gowns, and Opal said that she had no idea what she was remotely interested in. Korra asked if the pair would eventually settle down, to which the couple said that they would probably keep on the move. Opal championed around her ring, Asami sipped glistening wine, Bolin cracked terrible jokes, Mako wrestled with his brother, and Korra was content with simply watching everyone being happy for a change. Korra hadn't really felt any sort of joy on this magnitude for a long while. She hoped that the cheer would last an eternity.

And then, someone made the mistake about asking when the reception was going to be.

"Oh, I couldn't even tell you that," Opal said. "All we know is that we want it to be soon."

"Yeah, it's pretty hard to wait around," Bolin agreed. "Even though it will be a ton of work, it just feels right to get it done fast."

"Well, that's a fun way to look at it," said Mako. "Do you have any time frame?"

"Well…" Opal thought. "We don't know when exactly, but our original plans were about a month, maybe two months away."

Korra and Mako burst into a series of happy cheers. However, upon hearing the time, Asami nearly choked on her precious drink. Korra gazed at her worryingly.

"Hey, is everything alright?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," Asami lied. "So, by one month, do you mean _next_ month?"

"Well, yes," said Bolin. "That's kind of the month after this one."

Asami looked away. Korra recognized concern in her green eyes.

"Um, this is an embarrassing question," Asami said slowly, twiddling her thumbs. "Do you think… well, do you think it's possible… to maybe delay the wedding for a bit?"

All eyes were focused on her. The laughter and cheered were sucked out of the room by a vacuum of enigma.

"What's wrong with next month?" Mako asked, intrigued. Asami immediately looked at Korra, judging her gaze. She felt her stomach drop. Sweat began to slide down her forehead. She hadn't said a word, but she knew that once she did, she was going to instantly regret everything. Korra continued to stare at her, unknowing, unaware of the pain she was about to receive. All of the attention in the room was focused on one fixed point, and the pressure expanded until Asami finally felt the urge to admit the truth.

"Well, you see," Asami began, her voice quivering. "A few days from now, I'm actually going on a… a business trip. I'm going to be away for the next… month or so concentrating on my work. So, if that's the case…"

Asami trailed off, unable to speak under Korra's intensified gaze.

"You're leaving again?" asked the Avatar, sounding empty. Asami stared at her sparkling glass, making sure to concentrate on it as hard as she could so that she wouldn't look at her girlfriend.

"It's okay, Asami," Bolin said ignorantly. "We couldn't possibly not include you. It just wouldn't be the same."

"In a few days," Korra repeated, feeling the joy being sucked out of her. "You're going to be leaving? And you'll be gone for a whole month?"

_Korra, don't do this, _Asami mouthed silently. Yet, it was too late; the damage was done. Korra placed her glass back on the table, and crossed her arms, muttering something unintelligible under her breath. The conversation had resumed, as Bolin began describing his grand journey in his quest to ask for Opal's hand in marriage. However, Asami and Korra were paying no attention to it. For the next fifteen minutes, Korra sat in complete silence, sitting with crossed arms and staring blankly at the tablecloth. Asami kept trying to get her to say something, anything, even something hateful, but it was futile. Korra had shut down, and Asami couldn't even blame her.

Eventually, while Bolin was approaching the end of his story, Korra rose from her chair, and looked at Asami with cold eyes.

"Could I speak to you privately for a moment?" she asked. Every fiber of Asami's being told her not to go, but she couldn't refuse. Reluctantly, she too stood up, and followed Korra into the bedroom.

The bedroom was a lavish red, romantic and soothing. Asami was secretly hoping that the atmosphere would help make the upcoming event much less painful, but found it to be unlikely. She quietly sat on the bed, keeping her eyes fixated on Korra as she shut the door slowly. The Avatar brushed the hair out of her eyes, smearing her hands across her face. What was she supposed to say now? There were a million things she wanted to say, but had no idea how to articulate them. Asami could practically feel the intensity coming off of her.

"Look, Korra," Asami said slowly. "I know what you're going to say—"

"Are you kidding me?" Korra asked simply.

"Let's just calm down," Asami suggested nervously. "I really think we should—"

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Korra asked again, more harshly than before. "You cannot be serious right now."

"—I think we should wait until we leave to discuss this…" Asami finished. However, Korra had had enough.

"No, we're talking about this now," she stated with conviction. "Because you don't get to say that you're leaving, especially when you _promised_ that you would stay, and then act like it's no big deal."

Asami sighed. Korra was glaring at her, her bright blue eyes piercing through the feeble layers of her skin. "Okay," she finally said. "We can talk, but can I get a chance to explain first?"

"Explain what? It's pretty obvious what's going on here. You flat-out lied to me!"

"Let me explain," Asami pleaded. "Shang called and asked if I was willing to travel with him to the Fire Nation in order to perform some more testing on the equipment. He offered me an extended contract that's nearly double what was settled on, and he said he was willing to nearly halve manufacturing costs. I know that I said I would settle down for a while, but this kind of came up unexpectedly and I made a split-second call. That kind of deal can get Future Industries ahead for a very long time."

"Future Industries…" Korra muttered angrily. "Everything is about Future Industries, isn't it?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Well, let me show you my side of things," Korra explained. "I start dating you, and I get the impression that things are going along really well. In fact, they're going better than I expected. I figure you're going to have to sacrifice some time for your company, just like I'm going to have to sacrifice some time for being the Avatar. That's fine. Cool. I get that. After a while, I ask you if we want to go public, and you tell me that we should wait it out until the right time. Once again, that's understandable. I don't have a problem with waiting for things if I know that it will make you feel more comfortable."

Korra sighed dejectedly. "And then, fast-forward to our lives now, and literally nothing has changed; if it did, it's only gotten worse. We spend almost no time together, and when we actually manage to get together, all that you can focus on is your company. Every conversation we have seems to be about it. You disappear for weeks at a time, going who knows where just to keep Future Industries afloat. And once I think you've finally come to say, something else comes up, and you leave again. It's… it's infuriating, Asami! All I'm trying to do is spend time with you, and it seems like you are actively trying to get away from me."

"I'm trying to save my company," Asami said defensively. However, the weakness in her voice was apparent.

"And I understand that!" Korra said with a pained expression. "Really, I can understand why you're doing this. I know how much this means to you, but sometimes—" she froze, trying desperately to translate her thoughts into words. "—I mean, look around you. Kai and Jinora are nearly adults. Bolin and Opal are getting married to each other. We don't even _live_ together, Asami. Every time I ask you if you want to go public, you tell me to wait until your company is more stable. Every time I ask if I should move in with you, you tell me to wait until the company is more stable. Honestly, I'm starting to get the feeling like things will _never_ be stable enough to get us moving forward. At this point—where we've lived for a damn quarter of a century—we need to at least be moving forward, and not caught up in this same stupid cycle we've been putting up with for years."

Korra dropped to one knee, and grabbed on to Asami's delicate fingers. She looked her lover straight in her beautiful, green eyes, and whispered.

"Asami, we need to fix this before it gets out of hand. You need to get some time free from your work, because… it's almost starting to feel like you love Future Industries more than you love me."

"I don't," Asami said quickly, reassuringly. "Believe me, I don't."

"I believe you," Korra responded. "But that is what it's starting to feel like. You're getting consumed by your work, and it's starting to influence everyone else around you. You've been under so much stress that you haven't acted normally in a year. You clearly aren't getting enough sleep, you barely want to talk over the phone, you never want to go out; the last thing I want for you is to lose yourself in this mess. Just… take a break from it all. Spend some time with me alone; no work, no distractions, just the two of us together like we used to do. I think it's what you need—_we need_—in order to make this work."

The air was thick and humid inside the sweltering bedroom. Korra looked away, feeling an immense burden get release off of her chest. She had no idea how long those thoughts had been clouding her mind, but she felt nothing but relief in saying them. She did not know what to expect. What was Asami going to do now? Kiss her? Slap her? Ignore her?

Instead, Asami cleared her throat, and gently released Korra's grasp on her hand. "Look… I know this past year has been kind of rough. It's been really rough for me too."

Korra felt her heart sink a little. She recognized the tone in the non-bender's voice; it was one of reluctant dismissiveness. Notably, there was also a large echo of regret and sadness.

"I'm sorry that I've been so busy lately," Asami said honestly, feeling her eyes start to tear up. "I'm sorry I haven't spent nearly as much time with you as I should have, and that I've had to go away so often. I know that, recently, I've been acting out of the ordinary. I know I've been a bit standoffish and cold, and I genuinely apologize for my behavior. I don't want you to think of me in that way. And also, I'm so, so sorry about lying to you. I shouldn't haven't led you on like that."

"But?" Korra asked, already knowing where Asami was heading with the conversation.

Asami sighed deeply. "But… I can't just go off and leave Future Industries behind."

Korra groaned, and threw herself onto the bed. Asami felt a pang in her chest.

"Please don't act like that," she begged mercifully. "I don't want to have to choose between you and my family's business."

"It's a company, Asami!" Korra cried. "You're treating it like it's a real person, but it isn't. Future Industries doesn't feel, it doesn't bleed, and it sure as hell doesn't bend over backwards to please you in any way that it can."

"But it's my family," Asami said sadly. Silence once again filled the room. Korra stared at the silky sheets beneath her, unwilling to say anything else. Asami lowered herself onto her back, and rested her hands behind her head. "Do you know why I never talk about my mother?"

Korra looked at Asami's face, which was flushed and concentrated on holding back tears. "Because you don't feel comfortable talking about her?"

"Because I can't," Asami said, ashamed. "Or at least, I couldn't. When she died, it felt like a piece of my heart was torn out and burnt into ashes. If anyone brought up her name, or even mentioned the word 'mom', I would burst into tears. I had to turn all of my pictures of her down towards the floor because I couldn't manage to look at her. It took me almost two full years before I could even talk about her without losing it. It was probably the most painful experience of my entire life."

A tear escaped her eyes, and rolled gently down her cheek. With a swift motion, Korra brushed away the drop water. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm not good at losing things," Asami said with a sad smile. "For his entire life, my father dedicated everything to Future Industries. That was his legacy, his family, his everything. Now, he's gone too, and that legacy falls to me. I'm the _last_ of my line, Korra. I know you understand what it means to feel like you're legacy is being taken away. You have the Avatar spirit, and I have Future Industries. My family put everything into that business, and if I lose that… it will be like losing the last bit of family I have remaining."

Asami looked at the ceiling, staring at the elegant pattern on its surface. Korra reached over, and lightly turned her head so that they were staring face-to-face.

"Except you won't be losing your family," she said with certainty. "I'm part of your family. Those people waiting outside this room are your family also. You can't really be alone as long as we're here with you. Look, I'm sorry for getting so pissed off before; I'm just worried about you. If you're ever really having problems dealing with this, you can talk to me all you want about it. I'm always going to be there for you."

Asami sighed, feeling a cool wave of relief wash over her. She felt an overwhelming urge to give the Water Tribe woman a kiss, and so she did. She pressed their lips together for the first time in weeks, and felt the energy and heat and passion flow between them like surging electricity.

"I love you so much," Asami said after pulling away to catch her breath. Korra looked at her with steamy eyes and smiled back.

"I think that's pretty obvious," she said slyly.

"Before I go, we need to have a date night, a huge one. I think we deserve one after all of this. And then I swear, the moment I get back, we are going to push this forward. We can go as far as you want: you'll move in, we'll leak stories about ourselves to tabloids… anything you want to do."

"To be honest," Korra said, biting her lip. "I kind of just want to do this for a while."

Asami giggled, wiping the remaining tears from her face. "I think we can manage to do that."

Suddenly, Opal's voice penetrated through the door. "Hey, will you two stop making out on our bed already!?"

The couple shared nervous glances at each other. "Uh… how much of that did you guys hear?"

"Just that last bit," stated Bolin. "And the part when Korra was screaming. The walls are kind of thin in this place."

Asami thrust her head against the pillow. "See Korra, _this_ is why I wanted to have this conversation in private."

The two women managed to untangle themselves from each other, and walked to the door. Even though she felt horribly embarrassed, Korra actually felt somewhat glad. Maybe some actual progress was going to be made. Maybe the two of them could finally get back to a normal relationship. Maybe, everything would turn out alright.

The door opened. More drinks were passed around. The celebration resumed.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: This was actually a pretty interesting change of pace for us, since writing romantic drama isn't exactly our forte. Still, we think it turned out alright. What do you think? As always, we appreciate and encourage all reviews and feedback. We'll update again soon, so stay tuned.<strong>


	8. Two in the Morning

It was two in the morning.

What was Zhu Li doing up at two in the morning? She really had no idea herself. It wasn't a particularly restless day. She wasn't overly stressed about upcoming events. She wasn't hateful, or moody, or disappointed, or in pain; she just couldn't fall asleep.

She was lying in bed, but she was making no effort to fall asleep. Her husband was supposed to be sleeping next to her, but he had rolled off the bed and was now lying on his face, snoring loudly. Zhu Li found it slightly adorable, yet mostly annoying. In her hands was a large novel, her eyes scanning back and forth across the pages, taking in the information emotionlessly.

In a few days, she would have to leave her home behind once again. She would be touring around the world with Shang for thirty days, and though she could not claim she knew much about the devious businessman, she was glad to be involved in something that would assist Future Industries. Throughout all of the ups and downs of the past few years, Asami was a kindred spirit. Anything that could prove helpful to the struggling CEO was an accomplishment.

The phone rang. Zhu Li stared at the device on her nightstand quizzically. Who would be calling at this hour? She looked expectantly at Varrick, but he did not stir. With a disinterested groan, she placed her book on her lap, and picked up the phone.

"Who is this?" she asked.

"Hello? Is this the right number?" asked a young, slimy voice. "I'm supposed to have the number of a Mr. Varrick."

"Yes, this is the right number."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize he had a broad over."

"This broad," Zhu Li said, her voice monotone. "…is his wife."

"Huh, that's strange," the man muttered. "I thought he was unmarried. Anyway, this is Shang. How are you, Mrs. Not-A-Broad?"

"Fine," she groaned, noting the distinct lack of apology. "Is there a specific reason you decided to call at two in the morning?"

"Is there a specific reason why you're awake at two in the morning?"

Zhu Li said nothing. She felt a sudden urge to hang up the phone, but managed to restrain herself.

"Listen, you know how I scheduled that trip with all of us for like, five days from now?" Shang asked.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, not anything wrong," he said. "Well, I guess there is one thing: I'm so damn _bored_. I mean, I'm ready to get this trip going right away, and yet I'm still going to be forced to wait another week or so to go. It's tiring! So, I figured, since waiting around for time to kill us all is dumb, I've decided to reschedule the trip… for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Zhu Li asked in shock. "Shouldn't you have maybe told us that a bit sooner?"

"Well, I only made up my mind about ten minutes ago, so no, I couldn't have," Shang said, showing no sign of regret. "It's not that bad. You can pack together some toothbrushes or whatever in a few hours. Then, tomorrow at noon, we're going to head out on this grand expedition together!"

It became obvious to Zhu Li at that moment that Shang clearly didn't understand anything about normal people. If he wanted to leave at noon, then that gave her ten hours to pack a month's worth of supplies for both her and Varrick, because she knew full well that he would be to unconscious to do anything. Plus, she would have to shift around appointments, inform others of her sudden departure, and pretty much cancel every single project she was currently working on.

"You're insane," Zhu li stated bluntly. "We can't get ready this quickly. We agreed to leave in five days, and that's what we're going to stick to."

"Well, that's too bad," said Shang, feigning disappointment. "I'm leaving tomorrow no matter what. I guess if you don't want to come with me, then we could just cancel this whole deal we've got going on and go back to being competitors."

"Wait, wait," she said tiredly. "What did Asami have to say about all of this?"

"Oh, she doesn't know. You're going to have to tell her that. I can't be in control of everything."

"When am I going to be able to tell her? It's two in the morning. She's probably asleep."

"You were probably asleep, and yet here you are, talking to me," Shang said matter-of-factly. "Look, just tell her that if she wants to help Future Alliances, she'll come to my offices, packed and prepared, by noon. I expect to see you and Mr. Varrick there as well."

"You're an ass."

"And what a genius ass I am," he retorted smugly. "Goodnight, Mrs. Not-A-Broad. See you soon!"

Zhu Li slammed the line down on the receiver. She buried her face into her pillow. In a quarter of a second, all of her plans were ruined. Instead of even hoping of going back to sleep, she was now going to have to spend ten hours of her time getting ready for a stupid business trip with a horrible, misogynistic worm. It made her feel sick that someone who acted in such a childish manner could ever become the head of such a successful enterprise. Who would even trust someone as immature and ignorant as that?

"Yes, baby… turn the foot massager up to seventy percent," Varrick moaned dreamily.

It took ten minutes of angst holding her in place before Zhu Li managed to grab the phone once more, and give Asami the call. Best case scenario: Asami reluctantly accepted her fate, and went back to sleep. Worst Case Scenario: Zhu Li would have to deal with two unbearable CEOs.

"H-hello? Asami responded drearily after several minutes.

"It's Zhu Li. We have a slight problem."

Asami yawned. "Zhu… what are you doing up at two in the morning?"

"Never mind that. I need you to pay attention to what I'm going to tell you, okay?"

"Uh… sure," Asami shook herself awake. "Hey, did you know that Bolin is getting married? I'm so happy for him…"

"Focus, Sato!" Zhu Li said sternly. "It's about Future Industries. We might have a small problem."

"I'm focused! What's the issue?" Asami said bitterly. She had just awoken from one of the best sleeps she had in ages, and the one thing she was not in the mood for was a problem.

"Shang has decided that our comfort was not in his best interest," Zhu Li explained. "He wants us to leave tomorrow at noon. He says he hates waiting and refuses to start the trip any later."

"Tomorrow?" Asami asked in disbelief, gradually growing more aware of her surroundings. "You mean actual tomorrow? I have stuff to get done… can't it wait—"

"He said…" Zhu li paused. "He said that if you delayed, the deal with Future Industries was off. It's either tomorrow or nothing. I'm sorry."

Asami was silent. Zhu Li, although knowing fully well that none of it was her fault, still felt horrible about the news. She spoke softly.

"It's alright. We can work around this, but you should start packing now. Get some coffee, grab a bag, and start getting your—"

"I'm not going," Asami interrupted her.

Zhu Li froze. "What are you talking about?"

"If Shang's insisting on leaving tomorrow, then you're just going to have to tell him that I'm not coming along."

"Sato, I don't think you get it," Zhu Li said, agitated. "Shang was very specific: if you don't show up, you're out of the deal."

"He doesn't actually mean that," Asami said, slightly unsure. "If you're stubborn enough with him, then he should change his mind; it worked pretty well last time."

"And if, by some chance, you don't know what you're talking about and he refuses to listen, then what are you going to do?"

"Then…" Asami contemplated. "Then, I'm going to do the exact same thing. I'm not leaving."

"Asami, think about this—"

"No, I'm thinking about it," said Asami harshly. "We made an agreement to leave in five days, and that's what I plan to do. There are too many important things for me to just get up and leave without a moment's notice. If it comes down to it, then I'll fly out and meet you along the way."

"You're company is at stake. Be reasonable!" Zhu Li pleaded. "This is the same business you have been freaking out over for months. What could be so important that you're going to risk this deal for?"

"I… I told Korra that I would spend the next few days with her," Asami said, almost ashamedly.

"You're… you're going to screw over Future Industries so you can hang out with your girlfriend for another few days?" Zhu li said in disbelief.

"Yes," Asami said with conviction. "That's exactly what I plan to do." Zhu Li heard a moan on the other end of the line.

"Babe, what the hell are you doing?" a groggy voice asked gently.

"Korra, go back to sleep," Asami whispered. "It's just a business-related thing."

"But I—" Korra yawned. "—I thought you were through with that."

"I am," Asami insisted. "Just go back to sleep."

Zhu Li stammered. "Oh… I didn't know Korra was there with you."

"What… oh no, it's not—" Asami flushed. "No, I mean… she didn't want to take a ride back to… I was just letting her crash and…"

"I think I get the picture," Zhu Li sighed uncomfortably.

"No, it's…" Asami groaned. She brushed aside the comment. "Look, a few hours ago, I found out that one of my best friends is getting married. It gave me a revelation: this life, this business, isn't worth losing _everything_ over. I have been sitting idly by, watching people live to the fullest while I drown myself in my work. Frankly, I don't see the point in doing that any longer. I made a promise to Korra—to the one person I care about more than anything else in the world—that I was going to spend the next few days with her. I don't care if it means that the company goes under; I can work my way around is. I don't care if I lose all that I've been working on, not anymore. All I know for certain is that no matter what happens, I am _not_ breaking my promise to Korra."

Zhu Li sighed. "I'm glad that you're sticking up for someone you care about. That's a really noble thing to do. Except, Asami, you've clearly forgotten: Korra is still just a person. If she cares about you as much as you care about her, then I'm sure she would be able to forgive you for something like this."

"I know she would," Asami agreed. "But… I wouldn't."

Without another word, Asami hung up the line. Zhu Li stared contemplatively at the receiver. She still felt responsible for everything that was going wrong, but she knew that it was all the fault of stubbornness. Asami's problems were her own. Shang's stupidity was her own. Unfortunately, she was now caught in the horrid position of having to explain to Shang that the parties had failed to work out an agreement. Best case scenario: Shang was a reasonable person, and was willing to change his mind.

Worst case scenario: she would have a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

><p>It was two in the morning.<p>

What was Nuo doing walking in the park at two in the morning? It wasn't that she was usually asleep at this hour. In fact, in her line of work, she thrived at this hour. However, this was a slow night, and she somehow found herself walking in the middle of the park. It was nonsensical: she should have been downtown with her friends, making money so she could actually live for once. Instead, she walked down a path of solitude, a thick coat wrapped over her otherwise revealing outfit.

"Man, it's freezing," she muttered to herself. Was that the cause of the night's slow business? Was it simply too cold? No, she decided, it mustn't be that. There had to be another reason for such poor business. Then again, it didn't really matter. No matter what the cause of the issue was, she still had no customers, and she was still walking by herself in the park in the middle of the night.

She stopped to rest by a dim streetlamp. Nuo wasn't afraid of the dark; she had spent most of her life in the nighttime. Still, when a voice called out to her from the shadows, she couldn't help but jump.

"Hey miss, are you alright?"

Nuo jumped back, and immediately felt foolish. Although she could not see the figure, the voice sounded gentle and innocent enough.

"Uh, no," she said awkwardly. "I'm fine. I'm just walking around."

"Isn't it a bit early to be walking around?"

"No, this is my time of the day" Nuo said with a shrug. "It is pretty damn cold though."

"You're time of day?" the voice contemplated. "Oh, I get it."

"Get what?"

"It's obvious. Since you're a prostitute, you get pretty used to dealing with people in the dark."

Nuo became nervous. "Hey, you maybe want to shut your mouth about that kind of stuff? And… how did you know that anyway?"

"Oh, I've been trying to reach you for a while. I like you."

She stared closely into the nearby brush, trying to make out a discernable figure, but saw nothing but darkness.

"Are you… a customer?" she asked nervously, feeling a sense of unease wash over her.

"Yes, I am," said the calming voice. "if you'd take a step over here, maybe you could actually get some money tonight. After seeing you, I'm willing to spend plenty."

Nuo looked up at the comforting light of the lamp. "Why don't you come out here?" she asked. "Maybe you could show yourself before we get the deal going."

"I asked you first," said the voice. Nuo looked around for signs of others. She was alone with the voice.

"Look, I'm just not feeling good about this," she admitted. "If you show yourself, then maybe we can work this out. Unless that happens, then I'm afraid I just can't—"

All at once, the air was knocked out of Nuo's lungs. She gazed down at her stomach; a thick blade was protruding from her gut. Before she could muster the energy to scream, and hand reached out from the darkness, clasped itself over her mouth, and dragged her into the brush. The streetlamp flickered itself out.

It was two in the morning.

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><p><strong>Note: Sorry for another short chapter again. Luckily, things are starting to heat up, and the real horrors are about to begin. As always, review if you can, and we'll see you soon.<strong>


	9. Interrogation of the Innocent

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

"Ma'am, fighting isn't going to get you anywhere. If you could settle down—"

"Settle down? How am I supposed to settle down? You people _abduct_ me from my home, lock me in this room, and you expect me to be calm!?"

"We just need information. This doesn't have to be—"

"You don't have the right to do this to me! I demand to be released!"

It was a tiring day at the police station, for both the cop and the poor woman he was attempting to reason with. The young woman went by the name Lukara, and though she was acting irrationally, she could hardly be blamed for her behavior. She was the daughter of Kuzo, the wealthy radio host, and the brother of Feng, the petty thief. She wasn't really those things anymore; she didn't have a brother or a father. They were gone, stripped from her life in just a few short days. When she heard of the news, she had locked herself inside her apartment for several days, hiding in her closet like a scared little girl. The only reason she was here now was that the cops had forcefully taken her against her will; she would give anything to return to her home, to the life she used to have. Now, all she could do was wait and beg in the small interrogation room.

Through a one-way mirror, Mako watched intently as the cop failed to extract any useful information. She simply repeated the same phrase over and over again: "Take me home. You're violating my rights." He sighed mournfully; his investigation had reached a standstill. Lukara was his only major lead, and she refused to cooperate. Soon, he would have to let her go, and he would be left with nothing once again.

Lin popped into the room. "Mako, I need a word with you."

"Not now," he said passively. "We're interrogating a prime suspect here."

"Don't you think I know that? Trust me: you need to see this."

Mako shook his head. He made three quick raps on the glass; the blocky man inside looked at the mirror, and quietly walked out of the room. Mako followed Lin to her desk, unamused.

"You know, I think we were actually getting close," he lied.

"No, you weren't," Lin retorted. "She was as close to cracking as a bank vault."

"I don't think cracking her is the problem," said Mako. "She's pretty broken up as it is. But still, we need to get something out of her. She's our clear connection to the crimes."

Lin grabbed a file from her desk, and shoved them into Mako's grasp. "Not anymore," she said regretfully. Mako looked at her quizzically, and then opened up the files. Upon seeing its content, the color drained from his face. There were pictures of a dead woman, her body broken and torn and cut into like meat. Her arm was lying ten feet from the rest of her body, and her neck was broken and cracked sideways.

"What the hell is this?" Mako asked, feeling a pit grow in his stomach.

"It's a disruption," Lin explained. "We ran a background check on her. Her name was Nuo. She was one of the… night workers in the dark heart of the city. Her body was found earlier this morning in the park by a passing jogger. Based on what we could find, she was killed at about two or three in the morning, and left in the brush to rot. We haven't identified what did her in yet, but whatever it was, it doesn't appear to be pretty. Poor girl."

"And you think this is relevant to the Kuzo case?"

"This _is_ the Kuzo case," Lin clarified. She grabbed another photo from the pile, and pointed to its contents. "Look familiar?"

Mako stared at the picture, and his heart empty. It was a photograph of a single character smeared on the ground next to Nuo's head:

_Lustful._

"The killer struck again," Mako said quietly. "And it looks like he has a calling card."

"It appears that way," Lin agreed grimly. "I don't like this at all. Two bloody homicides and a haunting suicide all in a week. We need to step up our game on this. Be glad that your brother isn't getting married for another few months, because you're working overtime until this psychopath is caught, understood?"

"Yes, Chief," Mako said sternly.

"There's only one other problem," Lin sighed. "This new death has left us without a lead. This girl, Nuo… I doubt she has any family or friends to act as witnesses. Considering all of the people she met, I doubt we can find a solid suspect."

"Hopefully, if Lukara talks, we might be able to find something," Mako thought aloud. Lin sneered.

"Don't bother with her. Send her home."

Mako was taken aback. "What do you mean? She could hold precious information."

"She has nothing useful; I can tell just by looking at her," Lin said, leaning against the nearby desk. "So, you should save us the trouble and send us home."

"Chief, I respectfully disagree," Mako said confidently. "She holds the closet viable link with the victims that we have. I know she seems to be distraught now, but if we get her to talk, we could learn insight about the murders of her father and brother."

"About her _father_, maybe," Lin corrected him angrily. "The problem is: this isn't just about her father, is it? It was before, but now, it's the case of a dead hooker left to rot in the park. I'm sure I don't have to remind you, but Lukara and her colleagues are high society types. I doubt they even know what prostitution is. I need a lead that fits the profiles of _both_ victims, so unless she has been living on the street for her entire life, I doubt she can give us a suspect who could have connections to two people on the opposite side of the social spectrum."

"But Chief—"

"Mako, it's final!" Lin said harshly, walking towards Mako and sneering directly in his face. "I have two murders on my hands and a killer on the loose. I don't need you wasting my time with someone who clearly knows nothing that can be of help to us. Besides, she's been through enough as it is; let her go back to her damn peace and quiet."

Lin stormed away. It was only after she left that Mako realized ever eye in the room was focused on him. He looked down and proceeded back to the interrogation room. He felt like an idiot, even though he knew that he was completely justified. He knew he wasn't tracing a pointless lead. Even if there didn't seem to be a connection between Nuo and Kuzo, he had to find something of value. Lukara was hiding something; he could see it in her eyes. He just needed to find out what it was.

The second Mako entered the interrogation room, against his better judgment, he was screamed at.

"No! No more questions!" Lukara yelled. "Send me back home!"

"You're going home," Mako explained, taking a seat across from her. "First, I just want to talk to you."

"I told you people that I don't know anything," said Lukara, on the verge of tears. "If I knew something, then I would tell you."

"I'm not doubting that," Mako said softly. "No one here is convicting you of anything, if that's what you're worried about."

"You think that's all I'm worried about? My dad was _killed_ in his home. Feng was killed. Someone is coming after my family, and all you're doing is drawing more attention to me. He could be anywhere."

"Look, your brother's death was an accident—"

"No, it wasn't!" Lukara proclaimed. "I know my brother. He would never do anything like that. Someone _made_ him do it. Don't you get it? People have hated my family for decades. They've hated our lifestyle for spirits know why. Now, someone is coming after us, and they want to make it look like they're not, but they _are_. But when I say this… no one believes me… and I'm scared and I just want to go home."

Tears flowed freely from Lukara's eyes. She rested her head in her arms, and sobbed quietly to herself. Mako took a deep breath, and leaned in.

"I believe you," he whispered. "I… I was there when Feng died. I saw what happened, and I don't think he stepped into that road willingly."

Lukara peered up from the desk, her eyes glimmering.

"I know you're freaked out right now, but we're here to keep you safe," Mako said softly. "This person who's attacking you're family… he attacked someone else: a young woman named Nuo. This isn't an isolated incident. If we don't find this killer, then everyone in the city could be at risk. We can't let anyone else get hurt because of our inaction. Please, if you have something, anything to tell us, then we need to know it."

Lukara looked away, guilt-ridden. Mako pushed forward; he was getting close.

"Lukara, if you want to make their deaths mean something, then tell us what you know."

"I…" Lukara stammered. "I shouldn't."

"There are lives on the line," Mako emphasized. "What do you know about these killings?"

"N-nothing, really," Lukara explained, raising her head from the desk. "But, I… think my boyfriend might be responsible."

"Your boyfriend?"

"Ex-boyfriend, really. His… his name was Hao. We used to go out a few years back, but we had… cultural differences. He wasn't a fan of a wealthy lifestyle; I ended up following him for a while in the lower urban areas. Eventually, we sort of drifted apart, but he liked to check up on me once a year. He… he used to get into fights all the time. He could get pretty violent, but he never displayed any of that towards me. He's a nice person, deep down. I shouldn't be ratting on him like this; it feels dirty."

"This man, Hao," Mako asked curiously. "He wouldn't have any connection to any gangs or criminal activities, would he?"

"I'm not sure," said Lukara. "But… I suppose, given his background… there's a possibility of it. But I can't say for certain."

Mako let out a sigh of relief. He smiled warmly. "Lukara, thank you for telling me that. I promise that we'll bring whoever's responsible to justice. Now, let's get you home."

Lukara tearfully nodded. Mako helped her to her feet, and quietly walked her out of the interrogation room. He couldn't help but smirk to himself. Thanks to her willingness to speak the truth, he actually had viable information. He was after a man named Hao, hiding somewhere in the slums of the city.

Finally, Mako had a lead.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: Dear, readers, we request your assistance. We've received a lot of great feedback, which we're really thankful for, but we need your help on deciding where the story goes next (We're split completely down the middle on it). So, tell us what you would prefer to see the story focus on for the next few chapters: the investigation of the vicious killings in Republic City, or the relationships and emotional dilemmas within Team Avatar itself. Comment and let us know, and we'll see you next time.<strong>


	10. Dresses, Drinking, and Regrets

**Note: Well, the people have spoken, and it seems like we'll be spending the focus of the next few chapters on relationships. Thank to everyone who took the time to tell us their thoughts. If you want more mystery, don't worry: it's not going away. We have big plans for that soon, so stay tuned. As always, review if you can; it's very helpful.**

* * *

><p>Korra was in somewhat of a predicament.<p>

It wasn't a predicament that was going to bring about the end of the world. No buildings were in danger of being destroyed. No people were in risk of being lit on fire, or pummeled by boulders, or drowning in a flood. A nation wasn't rising in a totalitarian dictatorship, threating death and destruction wherever they went. The moon was not about to plummet into the Earth. The sun was not going to explode and decimate the solar system. In reality, it was much worse than that.

Korra needed to pick an outfit for the most important date of her life.

This task should not have been difficult at all. Given the turmoil she had faced throughout her life, it seemed like the choice of dress would be entirely inconsequential. Sadly, to Korra, it seemed like the most crucial decision in the world. Picking the correct outfit was essential to maintaining the balance Korra had fought so hard to achieve for four years. She could only imagine the horrified expression on Asami's face if she were to wear the wrong thing. She would be dumped immediately, discarded like a worthless animal, a plaything, a washed-up disgrace of a human being.

The source of the problem was inexperience. Korra had dressed for numerous fancy occasions before. She had a wide variety of clothing to choose from. She really should have known better. Yet, the truth was that she did not know any better. Fashion was not something that she was an expert in; usually, when she had to dress up in something fancy, someone else helped her get ready, someone who had much more experience in the field of eloquence. Plus, there was another wrench in the system.

"Stop by my place at 6:30 sharp," Asami had told her over the phone. "And I mean six _in the morning_, Korra. I have something special planned, so don't be late. Oh, and try not to wear anything too elegant, alright?"

It was the last sentence that was causing so much difficulty. Why wouldn't Asami want her to wear anything elegant? It was going to be their last time together for at least a month, so why would they not celebrate it with something elegant? It was already suspicious enough that she had to arrive at the Sato estate before the sun fully rose in the sky. Korra wasn't an expert on Republic City, but she knew quite well that the best places to have romantic gatherings were only available during the late hours of the night. Surely, Asami must have recognized this, and she also must have known that these places were very high-class establishments. Therefore, either Asami was purposefully avoiding romance and tenderness with every fiber of her being, or she was screwing with Korra's head, and really wanted her to wear something elegant. Korra briefly considered it. Women were complicated beings after all, she figured. Maybe when Asami had said not to wear something elegant, she was speaking sarcastically. Maybe, the true message was lost on her. It now seemed incredibly apparent to Korra that Asami was messing around with her, testing to see if Korra really knew her merits. It was all an elaborate ruse to show the Avatar's weakness, and once that weakness was exposed, Asami would have closed in for the kill.

Korra sighed deeply, and thrust her head into a pillow. She was bewildered, irritated, and felt like everyone was out to sabotage her. And it was all over a stupid outfit.

There was a knock at the door, and before she could speak, a youthful, tattooed face poked its head into the room.

"Hey, you're missing dinner," Jinora stated worriedly. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah… unless you count the fact that my life is about to be ruined," Korra moped. Jinora sighed and stepped into the room. It was shocking to Korra how much she had grown in the past few years, blossoming into a beautiful young woman right before her very eyes. The airbending master took a seat on the bed, and clasped her hands together.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jinora asked sweetly.

"You're not my therapist," said Korra.

"That still doesn't mean I can't help," Jinora said defensively. "Remember that time I helped you fall in love with Mako."

"Remember that time I ended up dating his ex?" Korra retorted. "Besides, you weren't really even all that helpful; Pema gave me all the advice. How did you even know this was a relationship thing, anyway?"

"Because Korra, with you, it's either relationships or tyrants. And last time I checked, the world was at peace."

"Fair point," Korra smirked. "Still, someone with your level of maturity shouldn't be giving advice to anyone. Advice somehow seems more appropriate when it comes from someone with a lot of knowledge and experience."

"Are you trying to suggest that I'm immature?"

"Well… you know… the gathering—"

"Oh, I can't believe that's still an issue!" Jinora screamed, slamming her fists against the mattress. It was an issue that had been bothering her for years, one that no matter how hard she tried to shake off, it stayed attached to her like glue. The "gathering" that Korra was referring to was an incident that occurred two years prior involving a lot of painful mistakes. There had been some sort of formal gathering at Air Temple Island, where many of her family members happened to be gathered for some specific reason she could not remember. At some point, late into the evening, she recalled Kai coming up to her and handing her a glass full of dark liquid. He told her that he had been offered it by a man from the Northern Water Tribe, who claimed that it was an exotic and rare drink meant only to be had on the most special of occasions. Naturally, Jinora—who understood that it was customary to take a drink when offered—gulped down the beverage with her boyfriend, who apparently expected the liquid to be safe and relatively harmless. Afterwards, she couldn't remember a single thing that occurred over the next several hours. Korra eventually told her that several notable diplomats found them both in the bay without tops and making out furiously in a drunken stupor. After that, she was told that she summoned a whirlwind to topple man of the diplomats to the ground, vomited, and broke three tables before finally collapsing and passing out in the middle of the party. Ever since, despite her best efforts, she had earned somewhat of a nasty reputation with her family, particularly with her father. Even though she had done so much to prove that she was worthy of her tattoos, she couldn't get rid of that one, horrible memory.

Jinora groaned. "Fine. If you don't want my help, then I guess I'll just go away."

"No, wait," Korra said quickly. "I really need someone to talk to. Besides, no one really cares about that gathering thing anymore."

"I'll believe that when I'm allowed to babysit again," Jinora muttered under her breath. "So, what's the problem?"

"Well, you know how I have the date with Asami tomorrow?"

"You mean the one you haven't stopped squealing about?"

"Yeah. She told me that I was supposed to wear something that wasn't fancy tomorrow, but if she really loves, she would take me somewhere where dressing fancy would be a requirement. I'm really freaking about it, and I don't know what to do."

Jinora was quiet for a long moment. She stared at the ground, and Korra stared at her, waiting for the wisdom to come pouring out. Instead, Jinora merely burst into laughter.

"That's your dilemma!?" she cired, incredibly delighted. She rolled onto her side, tears streaming from her face. Korra continued to stare at her. Why was she laughing at such a dire, crucial, life-changing problem?

"Hey, cut it out," Korra said quietly. "This is a serious issue."

"There's no issue!" Jinora stated gleefully. "I can't believe you're skipping out on eating because of _this_. If you want some advice, take this: if she says not to wear something fancy, _don't_! Boom, problem solved. Now, let's go eat."

"Oh, I get it," Korra said with a sneer. "Let's laugh at Korra because she wants to make sure the waning time she gets to spend some with someone she loves is absolutely perfect. Let's just mock her for not wanting to mess up a single detail of their night together. It's so funny that Asami had to beg and plead to a total jerk so she could stay in the city a few extra days with someone she cares about. It is so humorous to laugh at their plight. Ha ha ha."

"It's not that," Jinora explained, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "It's just funny because I've never seen anyone care so much about something that matters so little. You're going to get to spend time with Asami after weeks of never shutting up about how much you wanted to do that. Do you think she would even care in the slightest about what you wear, regardless of whether or not it was what she asked for? Doesn't she love you, and not your clothing?"

"Well, of course… if she loved me for what I wear, she would have dumped me years ago," said Korra with a small smile.

"Great," said Jinora, beginning to walk to the door. "Then we've reached a conclusion: no one cares. Now, come outside, eat dinner, and stop obsessing like a maniac."

"Wow, that was some very sage-like advice," Korra said, rolling her eyes.

"Glad I could help," Jinora said, taking the fake compliment in stride. "It's amazing that people treat you like some kind of icon of stability and spirituality over me."

"Probably because I don't drink random glasses of liquid people hand to me without explanation."

"I'm in a good mood, so I'm going to discard that comment. See you at dinner."

Jinora left the room, and Korra smiled as she watched her go. She felt pride swelling in her chest. Jinora had fully become her own woman, striding confidently through the world. It didn't matter that she had made some dumb mistakes in the past; she had matured so much that Korra couldn't help but be happy for her. Korra sat up on her bed, eyeing her useless closet one last time. However, before she could stand, the phone by her bedside began to ring. She picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she said, hoping to hear the sweet voice of her girlfriend on the other side. Instead, there was static.

"Hello?" she asked again. Still, there was no answer, only the crinkling of static on the other end.

With a shrug, she hung up the phone, and left her room, leaving the identity of the mystery caller as a faded memory.


End file.
